Facing Down The Past
by heart-of-a-volunteer
Summary: The crew reunite for the third tour, still struggling to come to terms with the events of a few months earlier. While Nathan and Kristin attend the opening of a museum in Alexandria, Ford and Brody have to face down an old adversary.
1. Chapter 1

**This story follows on about a month after the ending of 'A Stranger I Once Knew' during which the UEO headquarters at New Cape Quest was attacked by an army of humanitarian and political activists from the Indo-Pacific Confederation. During the ensuing battle Doctor Wendy Smith tragically lost her life.**

**A month later, after a much needed summer vacation, the crew are embarking on their third tour with Captain Bridger at the helm, ready to take on the challenges of a politically unstable world.**

**Disclaimer – Created for personal enjoyment only – no financial gain incurred. seaQuest DSV concept and characters remain the copyright and intellectual property of Universal Pictures and Amblin Entertainment.**

**Feedback is always very welcome – if you've read and enjoyed, let me know.**

***

seaQuest DSV 4600 - II

seaQuest DSV Berth,

UEO Headquarters,

New Cape Quest,

Florida.

July 10th, 2022 - 1036

At least he was prepared this time.

The long lines of disorientated sailors and scientists, the haphazardly stacked cases of supplies - the organised chaos that was the launch bay on the first morning of the tour; it was exactly as it had been on the two previous tours, so Ford knew what to expect, which was more than could be said for Brody.

Growing more and more frustrated, the newly promoted Lieutenant Commander had clearly underestimated what a long and arduous process loading the boat could be. Arriving in dramatic style during the shakedown tour a year ago, Brody had been spared all the launch prep – a fact he was ever more grateful for.

"It's a big boat, Jim. That's a lot of people and a lot of equipment to get to the right places," Ford teased.

"Yeah, but you'd think they'd have got the hang of it by now," Brody retorted.

"Give them a chance – there's more military this tour, and about a third of them are nuggets – this is new to them."

"Don't remind me," Brody groaned, not relishing the thought of training up sea-babies. "Hey!" he shouted to two junior Lieutenants who were carrying a crate upside down. "Read the labels!!! Pay attention to what you're doing!"

Ford smiled in amusement. "Not all of us were born in a uniform, Commander. The rest of us had to work our way up."

"Funny. What are the final numbers anyway?"

"I'm not sure yet, but it looks to be roughly…" he skimmed through the pages of his crew manifest. "…122 navy, 93 science."

Brody issued a low whistle, surprised at the figures. "That's a pretty big shift."

"Yeah, and the Captain isn't happy about it."

"What's the big deal? After what happened it's a much more unstable world out there. The UEO needs a heavier military presence to maintain peace."

On the surface he had to show neutrality, but privately Ford agreed. It seemed far more important to show strength at this time and ensure faith in the UEO was maintained. "This is the Captain's boat, and it was designed to be a research and exploration vessel – that's always been its' mandate."

"I understand that, but in a war there's no time to think about science."

"I'm inclined to agree," Ford spoke quietly, "but thankfully we're not at that stage yet."

They both turned their attention to the intercom as O'Neill's voice played through the boat. "Pass the word to Commander Ford, XO to the bridge, XO to the bridge."

"You can take over here, right?" Ford smiled, taking his copy of the paperwork and handing the clipboard to Brody.

"Hey, wait one second!" Brody shouted as Ford began to walk away.

Ford turned, eyebrow raised, waiting suspiciously to hear what he had to say. "Yes, Commander?"

"Isn't this, technically, the Commander's job?"

"I thought you wanted more responsibility."

"Well yeah, but…"

"But…?"

"This isn't exactly what I had in mind."

"No?" Ford smiled, and turned away, more than happy to be passing the buck on this occasion.

"This sucks!" Brody muttered behind him.

"I'm sorry, Sir?" a nearby seaman asked.

Not realising his exclamation had gone further than the range of his own hearing; he jumped to cover his tracks. "I said go topside and check these off in the trucks." He shook his head and groaned inwardly in annoyance. He wanted to get on with things – not fanny about with _this_. It was going to be a long morning.

***

With his attention on the crew and supply manifests, Ford had little chance of avoiding the young Ensign who suddenly appeared in his path. Both stumbled backward, reeling from the collision.

The Ensign brushed herself down and repositioned her duffle on her back. "I'm so sorry," she muttered, her hand hanging low.

"You know we have speed restrictions on these decks," Ford joked.

"Commander!" she exclaimed, realising she was addressing one of her most superior officers. "I was on my way to my bunk assignment and I got turned around – it just all looks the same," she stumbled, apologetically.

"Calm down, sailor," he reassured, looking her up and down. There were so many new personnel that he hadn't been able to memorise all their faces and names, but this one was a new recruit for sure. Short, and with dark hair tied tightly out of the way, she didn't look far out of her early twenties. "First tour?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir."

"Name and rank?"

"Beddard, Sir. Ensign Rosa Kennedy Beddard."

"That's quite a mouthful," he joked, trying to set her at ease. "Good to have you onboard, Ensign. Carry on."

"Thank you, Sir," she sighed, her shoulders slumping as she walked away, with both relief and the effort of carrying her duffle.

"She's pretty," a familiar voice spoke behind him, stopping him in his tracks and causing an unwelcome surge of adrenaline.

He turned and feigned a stern expression. "While on this boat, my observation skills are not used to appraise young women under my command."

"Is that right?" she teased.

"Jealous, Henderson?"

"What would _I_ have to be jealous of?"

"That some nuggets know how to make a good impression? But then that's not hard compared to your bumbling attempt last year," he teased.

"Thanks, Commander," she retorted, lips pursed.

He cleared his throat and pulled himself upright in an attempt to infuse the situation with some professionalism. "It's good to see you back on your feet, Ensign."

"Thank you, Sir," she replied, formally. "How's the boat coming? All present and correct?"

"I'm not sure yet," he admitted. "With all the cutbacks in science personnel, I still don't have a definite crew manifest." He looked around, feeling uneasy about talking idly with her in such a manner. "You all settled in?"

"Yeah," she responded, causing him to raise his eyebrows in dissatisfaction. "Yes, Sir," she corrected.

"Good, then you can go help Brody in the launch bay." He smiled as he caught a flicker of derision before she walked away, leaving him to carry on to the bridge.

***

"I thought we got this working," O'Neill moaned, staring vacantly at one of the several blank computer screens on the bridge.

"We did," Ortiz remarked. "The programming must have got fried or something."

"But how are we meant to fix it if we can't even access the mainframe?"

"Have you tried switching the server?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed. "Twice; we're completely locked out."

"Maybe we should reboot the whole system."

"Miguel, the whole boat is networked – it would take hours to get everything operational again, and we're launching at 1300." Rapidly running out of patience, he turned his attention back to his station and tried the same sequence of keystrokes that had already failed five times before.

"Tell me more about your vacation," Ortiz began, in an effort to distract him. "Was this place big?"

"What, the art school? No – there were only five others in my class, so it was good. I got a lot out of it."

"Will we get to see any of it?"

O'Neill smiled, knowing that Miguel wasn't in the least bit interested in art, but only in teasing him about his effort. Even if the teasing was only in fun, Tim comforted himself with the knowledge that his attempt at art was probably better than any attempt Miguel would have made. "No, my parents have most of it."

"Did you, uh, make any friends?"

"Miguel, just say what you mean, 'cause it's pretty obvious."

"You know," he shrugged innocently. "Lady friends."

"No," O'Neill answered bluntly, with somewhat more regret than he had intended. He cleared his throat and jumped at the opportunity to change the subject away from himself. "Speaking of lady friends though, how's yours?"

"Yeah, good I think. She was on her way back from Vancouver yesterday so I didn't get to see her."

"She's not joining the tour?"

Ortiz sighed, betraying his feelings on the matter. Despite being back on the boat and feeling focused for the first time since the last tour ended, his mind was still distracted by the constant awareness that there was so much uncertainty about the future. The future had always been uncertain – that was something they'd all been trained to accept and deal with. But now it was more; it felt fragile and unstable – like all their carefully laid foundations were ready to collapse beneath them. It was a feeling that rippled throughout the boat as the crew realised their world was on the brink of change, and they would be at the forefront of it.

"I don't know – I don't even think she knows," he answered coldly.

His reluctance to talk came as a surprise to O'Neill, who had always known Miguel as an openhearted individual, ready with a joke and piece of friendly advice for anyone who asked. It just proved to him that Miguel, like everyone else aboard, was still in the process of recovering after the attack on UEO Headquarters two months previously. However harrowing those memories were though, it was good to be back among people who had shared those experiences.

"Any luck?" Ortiz asked.

"No! What the hell is wrong with this thing?"

"Having problems, gentlemen?" Ford asked as he strode across the bridge towards them.

"Yes, Sir," O'Neill answered.

"What have we got?"

"It's what we haven't got, Sir. The terminals on the bridge are completely locked up. The system isn't recognising any of our pass codes – it's like the programming has been altered."

"Is the problem isolated to the bridge?"

"As far as we're aware," Ortiz nodded. "There haven't been reports of any malfunctions from other parts of the boat."

"And you haven't installed any new software?"

"Not since yesterday – but that was working fine," O'Neill assured him – attempting to reassure himself in the process. He and Ortiz had been so stringent. They all knew how important it was to have all the systems working perfectly.

"No, but I did," a young voice spoke behind them.

Collectively they turned to find Lucas approaching them tentatively, aware that he was bound to be on the wrong side of their good humour. His slouched posture and hands shoved in his trouser pockets were in contrast to the smart new crisp polyester shirt he was modelling. It made a change from his usual plaid – a good change – one that complimented his ever-growing maturity and position in the crew.

"Mr Wolenczak," Ford greeted him solemnly. "Want to tell me what's going on here?"

Ortiz and O'Neill also turned their gaze toward him, instantly making him shrink in on himself. At twenty years old he should have been able to hold his own by now, but among such dominating characters he still felt like the sixteen year old kid that used to get in everyone's way, and that only made him angry. They had no right to make him feel that way anymore. "With all due respect, Commander, I was just doing my job," he defended.

"And what job would that be?"

"I was asked, personally, to upgrade the security protocols on all bridge terminals that allow mainframe access."

"By who?" Ford asked, surprised. He wasn't aware of any such order being given.

"McGath."

The three sailors all exchanged confused glances, all wondering why such a request be carried out without their knowledge.

"What for?" O'Neill asked.

Lucas held up his hands in defence. "I know as much as you guys – I just did the job."

"Apparently not very well," Ortiz scoffed. "Now we can't access _anything_."

"Upgrading security is one thing, but making the system unusable is another – can you fix it?" Ford asked, bluntly.

"Yeah," Lucas answered, confidently. The fact they even had to ask was embarrassing – of course he could fix it.

"Before we make sail?"

"Yes, Commander," he repeated, and sidestepped the man to sit next to O'Neill.

Ford and Ortiz both raised their eyebrows in amusement and walked slightly further away to give them space.

The Chief stood silently, his mouth clamped shut in a stubborn effort not to let a question escape it. He watched as Ford checked over his papers and took one last look back at the two men, before turning to leave.

"Uh," Ortiz began, taking two large strides to catch up to him.

"Everything alright, Chief?"

"Any word?" he asked. There he'd said it. He'd sworn to himself that he wasn't going to; he'd asked once already, but he just _had _to know.

The need for more definite information on the status of the crew was something Ford could identify with. By now, all crew should have been checked in topside, but there were still three unconfirmed science crew, and no amount of harassing high command could get him any answers. "Nothing. Not even our new science chief knows anything about it. It's a joke! How we're meant to get the boat ready for operation when we don't know who's meant to be onboard is beyond me."

"Thanks for trying. How you doing, anyway? How's the family?"

"Good, yeah; Ben's making a great job of the business. He's got everything running so smooth Dad doesn't know what to do with himself."

Ortiz chuckled. "He must be proud though."

"Oh yeah. I think he's enjoying taking a backseat. Listen, I've got to get these to the Captain – I'll let you know if I hear anything."

"You need any help in the launch bay?"

"No, you stay here and get this sorted. I think Brody can handle the launch bay," he smiled mischievously.

***

"I told you to move those crates to B-Deck fifteen minutes ago!" Brody shouted, exasperated at having to keep track of the movements of so many people and objects.

"Sorry, Sir."

"Don't be sorry, just do it! I shouldn't need to repeat orders. Alright, listen up. Enlisted group C, Ensign Henderson will show you to your bunk assignments. Here," he said, passing the list of bunks to Henderson as she tried to round them all up. Another batch of crew were making their way up through the hatch behind him, so he walked up the stairs to greet them and tick them off his list.

"Oh, I'm not on that list, Lieutenant," a familiar voice tinkled, as a particularly large duffle was planted at his feet, followed by another large case.

"Only one duffle per sailor," he joked. "And it's, _Commander_, now actually," he grinned.

"Is that right?" Beth grinned back. "And when the hell did that happen?"

"About a week back."

"What happened, they lower the pass mark?"

"Funny," he grimaced, giving her a playful nudge. "When did your position get approved?"

"This morning," she groaned, picking up her bags and moving out of the way of the sailors who were eager to get to their assigned rooms. "They obviously didn't tell you anything."

"No," he agreed, motioning for her to follow him back down the stairs. "You'd better find Ford or the Captain and let them know. You got all the paperwork?"

"Yeah," she nodded, breathless from heaving her cases up the ladder. "Any idea where I can find them?"

"Last I heard, the Captain was showing the new science chief around one of the labs on seadeck."

"Who is it?" she asked.

Although he knew she was eager to know who she'd be working with for the rest of the tour, at that point Brody was too busy focusing on his job to pander to her questions. "I don't know," he said, waving her off.

"_Jim_," she said more sternly, knowing that he was lying, but he kept his silence. "Fine," she growled, and pulled her bags through the quickly developing mass of crew to the exit.

He watched her go with a pang of regret. It hadn't exactly been the friendliest of reunions, but he just had too much to be getting on with. It was a fact she was going to have to get used to onboard.

"Uh, excuse me?"

Brody turned sharply to face an overdressed, middle-aged man – clearly not military. "Can I help you, Sir?"

"Yeah, I'm Doctor Richmond Fields, your new psychoanalyst."

"A shrink?" Brody instantly replied, screwing up his nose in disgust.

"I'm not fond of the term, but yeah, _shrink_," he mocked. "I believe my position was only recently approved. Could you let the Captain know that my colleague, Doctor Matlock, won't be joining us?"

"With all due respect, Sir, you'd be better telling him yourself." He looked desperately around, hoping she hadn't got too far. "Beth!!!" he shouted. Thankfully she heard him through the rabble and turned to squint at him, questioningly, before marching back through the throng, looking somewhat displeased.

"What?" she asked.

"This is Doctor Richmond Fields, the new ship's counsellor," he informed her, with a little more sarcasm than was necessary.

She immediately shot him a wide-eyed stare. '_You can't be serious_!' she said to him, silently, mind-to-mind.

He cleared his throat, shifting the effect of the telepathy from his mind and refocusing on the man in front of them. Beth still stood aghast at the new development, and it took a shove for her to remember her manners.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, dropping her cases to the deck. "Sorry, Beth Allen, pleased to meet you. I just didn't expect a, uh, um…"

"Shrink?" Doctor Fields teased.

Beth swallowed, embarrassed, and smiled nervously. "I'm on my way to find the Captain if you'd like to come with me?"

"Yes, thank you. Thank you, uh…"

"Brody, Lieutenant Commander Jim Brody." He shook the other man's hand warily, not sure yet what to make of him, and watched as Beth led him away. He laughed as Beth turned her head to mock him. '_Lieutenant Commander Jim Brody_,' she mouthed, giving Doctor Fields a pleasant smile as he caught her antics.

***

She gazed at all the equipment. It wasn't anything new – nothing she hadn't seen before. But somehow a few months ago she hadn't been able to really _see _it; it had just been there in the background. Now it was real, and it was hers.

"It's a lot more advanced than what you were used to, but then you already know that," Nathan told her.

"Yes, I did get to experience a few things during my brief visit," she retorted. "More than I would have liked."

"That's all behind us now, Kristin – the crew are looking to us to move forward. That's the main reason I recommended you for this."

"The _main_ reason?" she choked. "Come on, Nathan. You _need _me – you may as well admit it," she teased, causing him to chuckle despite himself.

It was good to know she was still in there somewhere, underneath all the timidity. Being back on the boat in a professional capacity had surprisingly un-nerved her – something he wasn't used to seeing.

Right on cue they were joined by a welcome visitor. Breaking the surface with a 'whoosh,' Darwin exuberantly paddled over to where they stood.

"Hello, Bridger," he greeted.

"Well, look who decided to put in an appearance," Nathan joked, rubbing his rostrum affectionately. "I bet you're ready to get going, huh?"

"Open water," he agreed.

Kristin chuckled watching the exchange. Darwin had spent the summer at Malcolm's facility enjoying the company of his dolphins, but had been more than happy to return to the confines of the seaQuest and the companionship of his human friend. "It's good to see a familiar face," she commented.

"A friendly one too," Nathan smiled and turned to look at her, but she'd already left his side, pacing restlessly around the lab once more. "Feels strange doesn't it?" he asked, attempting to coax some of her feelings from her.

"All my things feel very antiquated. _I_ feel very antiquated."

"You're not antiquated."

"As long as my staff don't start thinking it," she sighed, concerned.

"Intimidate them, it worked with the last bunch." He smiled as she shot him a dirty glance.

"With the last bunch we were all in it together – it was new for everyone. I just don't feel like I have the authority to be Chief anymore," she admitted.

"Kristin," he chided, walking over to place his hands on her arms. "You have enough authority to make Ford quiver in his boots." A smile was all he wanted, and a smile he got – a small one, but a smile nonetheless.

"Speak of the devil," she spoke under her breath, pulling away from him and nodding towards the door where the Commander had just appeared.

"Sorry, Captain, Doctor," he said, awkwardly, reluctant to move any closer; perfectly aware that he'd just interrupted a private moment.

"That's alright," he reassured, and motioned for him to join them.

"I have initial reports from all sections, Sir."

"Good – how's everything coming?" Nathan asked, taking the paperwork from him and examining the pages. Many Captain's would criticise him for using such an outdated method of record keeping, but on his boat he insisted hard copies of all important files were maintained for use in the event of computer failure. Even Lucas turned his nose up at the amount of paper lying around.

"Everything's running to schedule. I left the '_Lieutenant Commander_' in charge of the launch bay," he added, sarcastically."

Nathan and Kristin exchanged an amused glance. Throughout the previous tour there had been an almost constant competitive rivalry between Ford and Brody, but Ford had always had his rank to fall back on, and now Brody was catching up it was clear he wasn't best pleased.

"Now, now, Jonathan," Nathan chided. "Brody's worked hard – had a good career – he deserves the promotion."

"Aye, Sir," Ford nodded, smiling. Despite the rivalry, he was still pleased for his friend. "We're having a few computer problems on the bridge."

"What kind of problems?"

"It seems Lucas was asked by McGath to install new security protocols – only they're working too well – no one can access the mainframe via the bridge. Were you aware of the upgrade, Sir?"

"I was made aware of it. What's being done about it?"

"I've got Lucas working on it with O'Neill and Ortiz."

"Let's just hope it'll be ready in time to launch," Nathan commented.

"Lucas assured me it would."

"That poor boy. He's only been onboard five minutes," Kristin added, pitying Lucas for being under Ford's scrutiny – she knew how it felt.

"Not so much the boy anymore, Kristin," Nathan corrected.

"He is in my eyes."

"I think he did a lot of growing up over the summer."

"I think we all did," Jonathan agreed.

***

Their tense, raised voices were audible from several metres back along the deck. Miss Allen had slowed her pace, tentatively approaching the door to the lab.

"That still hasn't been resolved?" A male voice asked.

"That's ridiculous! Surely they're not going to leave me without an assistant?" another voice, female this time, balked, outraged at whatever had just been said. Richmond hadn't thought it precisely the best time to announce their presence but Miss Allen clearly had other ideas.

"Not if I have anything to do with it," she said, stepping into the room. All three figures turned their heads to meet her tentative smile. "Room for one more?" she asked, setting down her bags and walking briskly towards them.

"I'm not sure – we're pretty full this tour," one of the men teased.

"Oh!" the woman cried, batting her hand at the men, "you're small – you'll fit," she insisted, moving forward to encompass Miss Allen in her arms. "What a relief – how are you?"

How fascinating it was to be able to stand in the room with these people, virtually invisible, as they displayed their honest thoughts and emotions to each other. A moment seemed to pass between the two women, with Miss Allen looking at her older colleague indecisively, perhaps wondering how much to divulge.

"Getting there," she admitted eventually, with a thin smile.

"Lucas has been raving about his summer up north with you – how is Joshua?" the woman asked her. By now Richmond had decided this must be the infamous Kristin Westphalen, chief of the science staff.

"Good – he's doing amazing work up there – really made a name for himself," she replied. "Captain, Commander," she added, turning to greet them formally with a handshake. Ah, so these two were Bridger and Ford. And while the women had been reconnecting, their attention had wandered to the stranger in the room. His presence was no longer going unnoticed. Seeing their inquisitive looks, Miss Allen jumped in to introduce him. "Sorry, this is Doctor Richmond Fields – he will be joining us as the boat's counsellor."

The silence that greeted him mirrored the reaction both Miss Allen and Brody had given short ago. He was growing tired of the obvious aversion to his presence. "I'm getting the distinct impression that no one around here is fond of psycho-analysts," he spoke, his distinct Texan drawl showing through.

"Apologies, Doctor, I'm Captain Bridger and this is my XO, Jonathan Ford. I'm afraid your presence here hadn't been confirmed."

"No, I gathered that," he smiled thinly. "I'm assuming also then that you haven't been told that my colleague, Doctor Matlock, won't be joining us."

"Well, that accounts for the three missing personnel – looks like we've got a full house, Captain," Ford confirmed, checking and adding the various names to his list.

"Excellent, now we just need to get the bridge back online."

While the two officers once again involved themselves in discussing the particulars of any outstanding preparations, Richmond, Westphalen and Miss Allen were left to endure the momentary unsure silence that inevitably arises among strangers. As was to be expected, Westphalen was the first to attempt any kind of conversation.

"Is this the first time you've been stationed at sea, Doctor?" she asked, politely.

"No, actually," he corrected. "I specialise in performing psycho-analyses on people employed in difficult work environments, so I've done a lot of work with the military, mining colonies – that kind of thing." He watched as she and Miss Allen nodded politely at his response. There was a lot of wariness about this crew. At least it would make his stay more interesting. He understood from the Commanders' references that he, Doctor Matlock and Miss Allen were the three missing personnel in question. It was unusual for the UEO to leave crew confirmations so late – especially for such a large vessel. He knew his own reasons, and that of his colleague – they had been waiting to hear from other contracts, but he was intrigued to find out why Miss Allen's position had been delayed. "So what excuse did the UEO give for keeping you hanging on so long, Miss Allen?" he asked, bluntly.

"Uh, I, um," she stuttered, looking nervously over at the Commander for help. "With everything that's been going on they didn't know how many science personnel they would be hiring this tour…I guess," she smiled.

"Yes, it's going to be a challenge," Richmond commented. "I know there are some who believe that, given the current climate, seaQuest should be given over completely to military purposes." He knew this was something Nathan Bridger was likely to be completely opposed to, but was still keen to gauge their thoughts and reactions on the matter. Bridger had been eyeing him carefully throughout the conversation with his XO, his emotions well-guarded, but now his frustration was all too visible. Clearly sensing this also, his Commander came to the rescue.

"Uh, Doctor Fields, have you been given a tour of the boat?" he asked.

"No," he answered, shaking his head.

"In that case why don't you come with us to the bridge, we can show you around on the way."

"Sounds great," Richmond agreed. "What about our bags?"

"Leave them here, I'll get them transported to your rooms," Ford assured.

"Alright then," he smiled enthusiastically in an attempt to set them at ease, setting his bag down next to Miss Allen's and following them along the deck.

***

As the party left the lab, Jonathan slowed his pace and pulled Beth behind to speak with her quietly. "Do you have your paperwork?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure," she nodded pulling it out of the bag, she still had slung round her body, for Ford to look over.

"I guess Section 7 finally gave you the all clear, huh?" he teased, prompting a dirty glance and a wry smile. They were both well aware that was the reason her position had taken so long to be approved.

"Yeah, but I could hardly tell him _that_ could I?" she muttered.

"So what do you think of him?"

She looked up at him, her eyebrows raised. "I don't know. I don't really think anything…yet."

"Oh come on," he laughed.

"What? So I don't like the idea of him being here – that's allowed isn't it? You can't tell me _you're_ happy that the UEO has sent some stranger to keep tabs on our mental well being?" His rolling eyes clearly confirmed it. "I didn't think so. Besides, Kristin seems to like him."

"What?" Jonathan looked ahead at the three of them talking and laughing politely at each other's comments.

"Yeah, he's got that rugged charm thing going on." She laughed as he eyed her with scepticism. "Tallish, looks after himself, dark hair – thinning but not overly so, casual appearance, well defined facial features…yup, I reckon he'll attract some attention around here. She had a definite twinkle in her eye."

If there hadn't been the slightest edge of sarcasm in her description she'd have convinced him completely. Instead they simply looked at each other and smiled cheekily. "The Captain's gonna love that," he joked, laughing once more as she batted him with her arm and continued on towards the bridge.

***

"Well, well, if it isn't Abbott and Costello," Brody laughed as Piccolo, closely followed by Dagwood sauntered into the launch bay to report for duty.

"Hi Jim!" Dagwood called, happily.

"Give me a break, Commander," Piccolo drawled, "he's been permanently attached to me ever since we got back."

"Tony, you took him to see your family – what do you expect?"

"I dunno – a little personal space from time to time. What have you got for us?"

"Not much actually, Seaman," Brody smiled, smugly. After a rocky start, he'd managed to run a smooth operation. All the crew had been logged in and sent to their assigned bunks and stations, "All I got left are those supplies to take to the galley and the lounge."

"All right," Piccolo announced, clapping his hands together and bending down to pick up the biggest container. Brody and Dagwood watched as he struggled this way and that to get a good grasp, groaning and cursing as he tried to lift it.

"Tony, it's too big for you," Dagwood pointed out.

"I got it, Dag," he insisted, his voice strained and his cheeks turning a redder shade of crimson.

"You'll get hurt, Tony," Dagwood said, brushing him aside and grasping the container easily, before lifting it over his shoulder and hefting it out of the launch bay.

"Jeez, when's that guy gonna stop showing me up? We meet a bunch of chicks on the beach and they're too busy cooin' over him to notice yours truly!"

Brody simply laughed, and pointed out the smaller boxes destined for the lounge. "I'd actually prefer it if you took care of those – there's some sensitive equipment in there."

"Yeah? Like what?" he asked, opening one of the boxes for a closer look. "Since when do movie discs count as sensitive equipment?"

"Since we're stuck on a sub for 13 months without any good looking science personnel."

"That's not even funny," Piccolo announced, pointing his finger at Brody. "I'll sort these out – they're in good hands," he assured him.

"Yeah, I'll bet," Brody muttered, waiting for the inevitable.

"Hey! Watch what you're doin'!!!!" Piccolo's recognisable drawl echoed through the corridor as he crashed into another sailor.

A quick glance around the launch bay confirmed that there were no more personnel to be shown where to go, or equipment to be logged in. Everything had gone better than he expected. "Commander Ford," he spoke through his PAL, "all personnel and supplies are checked in, I'm about to begin a preliminary check with all section chiefs."

"Understood, Commander. Good work," Ford spoke back.

"What else did you expect? Brody out."

***

"That's it – you're back in business," Lucas announced proudly.

Behind him, O'Neill and Ortiz suddenly sat upright, having stopped paying attention a good while ago, and leaned closer to the computer screen.

"So what was the problem?" O'Neill asked.

"Well, getting back into the mainframe was the biggest issue – once I was in there I just had to re-establish the link between the new protocols and the file containing the access codes."

"It just lost the link?" Ortiz asked, incredulously. It was amazing the turmoil that could be caused by one fried link in a program.

"Yeah. See, try it out." Lucas moved over to let O'Neill into the terminal and watched as he typed his user ID and pass code. He was filled with a glow of smug satisfaction as the screen blazed into life and granted him access to the seaQuest's mainframe. It was also with pleasure that he realised if it weren't for him, the boat probably wouldn't be launching on time.

"That's great, Lucas, thanks," Ortiz smiled, patting him on the shoulder.

"No problem," he sighed. "Someone should probably tell the Commander that the system is back online," he suggested.

"That won't be necessary," Bridger barked, as he led his party onto the bridge.

Ortiz turned and was dealt an emotional blow that knocked him off balance. Tim smiled as he watched his friend grapple with the seat he'd become entangled in and a goofy smile appear on his face. He quickly shot out his arm and smacked him across the back, reminding him to stand to attention for the Captain. Ortiz glanced across at him and nodded gratefully, standing upright, but not taking his eyes off Beth for one second.

Ford simply shook his head and grinned at the pair of them, as did Kristin, who cleared her throat and nudged Beth to remind her there were more than just the two of them in the room.

"As you were," Bridger ordered, walking away from them to inspect his bridge. "Well, how's my boat, gentlemen?"

"Ready and waiting for action, Sir," O'Neill informed him, proudly. The simple statement was enough to rev up the familiar excitement they always felt before putting out to sea. It wouldn't be long now – not long before they were back out there.

"Right answer," Bridger joked. "Doctor Fields, I'd like you to meet some more of my crew. This is Lieutenant Tim O'Neill – our communications officer, Senior Chief Petty Officer Miguel Ortiz – our sensor specialist, and Lucas Wolenczak – our computer analyst."

All three men moved forward to greet him politely, all the while wondering just who it was they were being introduced to.

"Gentlemen, this is Doctor Richmond Fields, he'll be stationed onboard for the first four months of the tour as our new counsellor," Bridger informed them.

Those who were already aware of his role waited for the reaction of the others. O'Neill and Ortiz shot their heads towards each other in an expression that clearly read, '_is he serious?_' While Lucas, in an unexpected move, merely smiled and said, "Well, I'm sure after recent events we could all use someone to talk to. At least I could anyway," he sighed, looking up at all the bewildered faces.

"Thank you, Lucas," Richmond smiled warmly.

"Yes, well," Nathan interjected, "I think it's about time we got this boat ready to set sail, wouldn't you, Commander?"

"I'd say so, Sir."

"Gather all the section heads for a meeting in the wardroom in thirty minutes. I'll be in my quarters."

"Aye, Sir. Mr O'Neill, put out the call, please," Ford ordered.

"Doctor Fields, have you been shown to your room?" Lucas asked.

"No, I've barely had time to set my feet together – if you're offering, a guide would be great."

"Sure," he smiled.

"And thank you…for the welcome," Richmond added.

***

He'd lost count of the number of times he'd done this – addressed his crew before launch; given them a poignant message – a piece of inspiration. He'd done it so many times he'd even started recycling his old lines.

Times like these were difficult though. "I'm sure you all know how the world stands," Nathan spoke, solemnly. He wished he could do more for them than simply recite facts, but, truthfully, he was just as unsure as they were about how the global situation could pan out. At least he had his experience to draw on – that much he could pass onto them, because that's what they were in need of – a leader; someone to lead them forward and teach them how to cope with whatever lay waiting for them.

"It's so easy to forget that not long ago we were all at war; that we're still recovering from it. The unease and blame that had begun to be buried has been exposed by this attack, and we're all looking to each other to see what move the other player is going to make." He paused to take in their faces. Lucas and Kristin looked up at him intently while Ford and Brody watched with admiration – perhaps taking notes for what they'd say to their own crew someday. But right now they were still part of his crew, and he was immensely proud of them all. It was going to be a tough year, but he had every faith that they'd see each other through.

"The UEO was formed to maintain peace among aligned nations, and as ambassadors for that organisation, it is up to us to provide an example of unity, and of peaceful compromise. To the global community, this vessel is a symbol of hope, and it is our job to live up to that. It isn't going to be easy – that much is certain, which is why we all need to band together as a unit, because once we start letting each other down – that's when we start letting the world down."

There was still silence in the room a moment later, but no time for reflection Nathan decided. "Commander – put out the call to the crew – I think it's time we let the old girl stretch her legs."

"Aye, aye, Sir," Ford smiled, activating his PAL and sending the rallying call throughout the boat. "All hands report to your stations, seal all hatches and watertight doors, secure your equipment; prepare the boat for launch. Mr Brody – prepare the boat for sea."

"Aye, Sir," Brody saluted, smiling broadly.

At the head of the table, Nathan too managed a brief grin, catching the sudden enthusiasm of his crew. '_I haven't lost my touch after all_,' he thought.


	2. Chapter 2

seaQuest DSV 4600-II

Atlantic Ocean,

Entering the Strait of Gibraltar,

35N 58' 40.82", 5S 49' 21.19"

July 26th, 2022, 0927

"Channel control, this is the seaQuest DSV requesting permission to continue on course, over," O'Neill called ahead.

"Roger, seaQuest, please proceed on the port side and be aware of civilian vessels passing to your starboard, over."

"Roger that, seaQuest out. We're clear to proceed, Commander."

"Thank you, Mr O'Neill. Helm, reduce speed; bow positive six degrees. Let's take it easy and watch out for traffic. Mr Ortiz, keep WSKRS positioned under the boat until we're clear of the strait."

"Aye, Sir."

"How long until we reach Alexandria?" Ford asked the helm.

"At reduced speeds it'll take us a couple of hours, Sir," Piccolo told him.

"Alright, Mr Brody – take the Conn. I'm gonna go see how things are going with the EVAs," he announced, slipping out of the Captain's chair to make way for Brody, who had stepped up eagerly.

"What are you orders, Sir?" Brody asked.

Ford looked at him, amused. "You're in command…you make the orders," he smiled, before turning heel and walking off the bridge with a wry smile.

The few weeks at sea had been enough to dampen his annoyance at Brody's promotion and now things were back to the way they'd always been – a constant game of one-up man ship. To outside observers, the constant competitive remarks could easily be construed as being indicative of an unhealthy grudge, but for the two men the harmless banter did much to break up the serious tone that usually dominated most of their day.

As though a shepherd inspecting his flock, Ford decided to shun the mag-lev in favour of walking to the launch bay. He liked to take the time every now and then to stroll through the decks and take note of what he observed. Usually everything was carrying on as it should, but occasionally there would be a group of socialising crew lingering too long before going on duty, or he would notice yet another maintenance job that needed attending to. There were lots of things you tended to miss when you whizzed by them in the mag-lev.

"Commander," Westphalen nodded as she trundled by him laden with bags.

"Need a hand with those, Doctor?" he asked but didn't wait for an answer, instead flagging down Ensigns Sanderson and Jones. "Where are you headed?"

"I'm going to see Nathan but these are going to the launch bay," she groaned, swinging one of the bags to the ground.

Ford raised an eyebrow at her. "You're only going for one night," he remarked.

"Yes, yes," she waved her hand, dismissing him. "Thank you, gentlemen," she smiled and was on her way again. He did the same, reaching the stairwell and descending to the next deck, continuing his observations along the way until he reached the second stairwell and descended it also.

"Morning Jonathan," Beth's voice called as he reached the bottom of the stairs. She passed by quickly, already behind him by the time he looked up. She seemed to be constantly on the move these days, which didn't really surprise him – it couldn't be easy for them working with such drastic cuts in personnel. They were all working flat out. '_They_' of course being the science personnel.

He smiled to himself as he considered the irony. There he was, within a five-minute time frame, helping the chief scientist with her bags and being greeted quite happily by the assistant chief. The intolerant man he'd been four years previously would certainly have balked at that idea, but it was with a certain amount of pride now that he reflected on the relationship he'd built with the science community onboard and all that they'd achieved together. The thought gave him a slight spring in his step as he carried on his way.

***

"God damn buttons! All this ridiculous pomp and ceremony – why couldn't they just have left me out of it?" Nathan muttered to himself as he got ready for disembarking. A launch would be arriving shortly to take both he and Kristin ashore to Alexandria, where they'd been invited as guests of honour for the opening of a new museum. The new building had been specially designed to house and exhibit the artefacts the crew had unearthed during Nathan's first tour. They were delighted to have been invited but, as always, he'd been asked to give a speech.

'_I'll have to stop being so good at it – maybe then they'll stop asking_,' he mused. But they _were_ naming a wing of the museum after him, so how could he possibly refuse?

"It's open," he called as a knock sounded at his door. As he expected, it was Kristin who opened the hatch and entered. What he wasn't expecting were the surges of emotion that accompanied her arrival. The two of them had spent a substantial amount of time together over the vacation, which had been a great comfort after everything they had been through; but perhaps given the current context, it hadn't been such a wise move after all.

He looked her over – dressed to the nines in her pale blue skirt suit – ready to dazzle the awaiting ambassadors, and hopefully take some of the attention off him. "Well, you've done better than me," he groaned, flapping his unbuttoned cuffs in the air.

She smiled warmly and motioned for him to come over to her. Bashfully he obliged, holding out his hands like a reluctant schoolboy to his mother.

The awkwardness between them was palpable. It seemed they were on a never-ending dance that was destined to keep them separated one way or another. Beyond the few dances at the UEO ball, there had been no romance between them since the end of the first tour. Instead there was a growing kinship that he perhaps valued more than any physical relationship – not least because it was less complicated now they were back working together.

"There," she announced confidently, giving his sleeves a tug. "Nathan Bridger, you shall go to the ball," she joked.

"Very funny," he remarked, straightening his collar and giving himself a final once over in the mirror. "Are you packed?"

"Yes," she replied. "Commander Ford arranged for my bags to be taken to the launch bay."

"Did he now?" Nathan raised an eyebrow in mock annoyance. "I wonder if his courtesy extends to _Captains_."

Kristin smiled, making her way over to one of the seats by his desk. "It's very good of them to invite us to the whole ceremony," she mused. "If only work always involved staying in a grand hotel in Alexandria."

"I'll be glad once it's all over – it just feels like one big photo opportunity."

"That's not what it is at all," she insisted. "You played a huge part in both finding and securing those artefacts – they want to thank you – well, _us_."

She stopped as Ford attempted to reach Nathan over his PAL.

"Go ahead, Commander."

"The executive launch has docked and is waiting to take you ashore, Captain."

"Thank you. Let them know we'll be with them shortly."

"Aye, Sir."

"Don't grouch so much," Kristin commented, remarking on Nathan's expression. "Anyone else would be glad to have a fuss made of them. I for one am looking forward to it," she winked.

Nathan swallowed, his throat catching, not knowing how to take her comment. '_I thought this stuff was meant to get easier as we got older_,' he thought dismally. Ignoring her comment entirely, he walked over to his bed and zipped up his bag. "Looks like I'll have to carry this myself," he joked, throwing the strap over his shoulder.

"Oh what a crime! You poor thing."

"Hey, another wise crack like that and you can carry it!" he teased, pulling the hatch shut behind them.

"Impossible – it'd crease my suit," she quipped.

"And we can't have that – that'd be a crime."

They both laughed heartily as they continued to the launch bay.

***

Jonathan and Jim simply smiled and nodded their heads as Nathan went through his usual list of 'do's and don'ts that he imparted before every disembarkation.

"And take care of those trainees," he added. "Don't lose any, or leave any behind," he joked.

"I'll do my best, Captain," Jonathan assured him.

"Uh, _we'll_ do our best," Jim corrected.

"Nathan, they're quite capable," Kristin chided from the top of the hatch.

"I know that – but we can't have them thinking it. Good luck Commanders," he said finally, giving them a nod before climbing down the ladder into the launch.

"Enjoy the trip," Jonathan called after them, waiting until the docking hatch doors had sealed before giving Jim a sceptical look.

"_What_?" he asked, aghast. "You're not the only one in charge."

Shaking his head, Jonathan walked over to the communications panel. "Bridge, once the Captain's launch is clear of the boat take us to the rendezvous co-ordinates, one quarter speed, and let me know when our guests make contact. I'll be in the launch bay with Brody."

"Roger that, Sir," Piccolo acknowledged.

"Which do want; Crabs or the Stinger?" Jonathan asked.

"I'll take my chances with the Crabs – I've never liked that contraption."

"That '_contraption_' saved my life. If it hadn't been so manoeuvrable I'd have been crocodile dinner."

"Still havin' nightmares over that one, huh?"

Jonathan glared at him. "No I'm not having nightmares. I just don't think you should underestimate the Stinger. Katie and Lucas did a good job on that thing."

"Whatever you say, Sir," Jim smiled. "So, uh, _Katie_, huh?"

Jonathan knew that if they stayed in the same room much longer he'd allow his temper to get the better of him and fall foul of Jim's teasing. "Get on with it, Commander," he ordered.

"Aye, Sir," Jim saluted, taking two technicians and heading to where the Crabs were docked.

Jonathan and another group of technicians headed in the opposite direction to check over the Stinger. They had a lot of EVAs to give a final green light before everything could get started.

***

"You're out by 0.86 degrees."

"That's not bad," Rosa insisted.

"It doesn't sound like much, but multiply that over the distances we travel and you're gonna have Loner disappearing off on a tangent," Miguel snapped, batting down the over-enthusiastic ensign. She had barely stopped talking since she arrived at his station an hour previously. For the last couple of weeks he'd been teaching her the basics of sensor control and WSKR maintenance, and she'd absorbed all the information like a sponge, but now, clearly excited to be allowed access to the WSKRS controls for the first time, her mind was wandering and wasn't focused nearly enough on the task at hand. "You can't afford to have multi-million dollar pieces of naval equipment lost at sea because you got your calculations wrong."

"Sorry," she sulked.

Miguel rolled his eyes. Apparently Rosa had made it clear to her superiors all the way through the Naval Academy that she wanted to train as a sonar technician, so someone had thought it a fantastic idea that he 'sea-daddy' her and give her the benefit of his experience. It was a frustration he could have done without.

She was intelligent, but she knew it, and her overbearing confidence often grated on him. And heaven forbid she ever took more than one attempt to get something right.

Besides her self-assurance however, she was a keen pupil and always grateful for any insight he could give her about the boat and it's systems. She was never short of a dozen questions – unfortunately not always relating to what they were discussing.

"How's that?" she asked.

"You're out by twice the amount. You didn't input our updated position into the equation," he explained.

With a sigh and a large grimace, she set about re-calculating Loner's course for the third time. What he didn't tell her, of course, was that most of this was done automatically by the boat's systems, but she still needed to learn how to do it manually in case of emergencies.

He looked up to see Lucas smiling at them. They all knew how impatient he was growing about the whole situation.

"Have you been to see Doctor Fields yet?" she asked.

"No," he grunted, making sure to keep the other two WSKRS within reach of the boat while they were in such busy waters.

"I have – twice. He's great actually. You might not think it, but I don't really like talking to strangers…"

Miguel's eyes widened at the contradictory statement.

"I mean I know I talk a lot, but only around people I'm comfortable with," she insisted. "Why haven't you been to see him?"

"I have other people to talk to – I don't need to see him."

"Did it take you a while to settle in here, 'cause I find I'm not getting to know many people; but you and a lot of the senior staff – you all get on really well."

"We've all been here a while, Ensign," he replied, amused, glancing over to see how far she'd got with the calculation. She finished it off proudly and looked at him, waiting for his response.

"That's more like it. Now, feed it into the guidance systems like I showed you."

"Done."

"Alright, now start the sequence, and Loner is yours."

"Uh," she hesitated at the sudden realisation she was in control of what felt like the Chief's personal property.

"That's it," he assured her. This was the only rewarding part – having your 'sea-baby' successfully use the knowledge you had taught them.

"Attention all hands," Jim's voice suddenly called through the boat. "All personnel participating in EVA training please report to the launch bay."

"That would be me," Rosa smiled, excitedly.

"Good work this morning, once you eventually got round to it," he teased, smiling as he watched her go. She'd get there eventually.

***

She blushed a little at his compliment - all too aware of her inability to shut-up. "Thank you, Chief," she nodded, before turning and walking down the steps towards the exit of the bridge.

On her way out she passed one of the science staff – a young woman, perhaps only a few years older than herself, who had an unusually friendly rapport with many of the senior crew – especially the Lieutenant Commander. The fact a member of the _science staff_ could so easily integrate herself with the high-ranking members of the crew was a cause of extreme annoyance and suspicion for Rosa, who had found the social aspect of being onboard a submarine somewhat of a challenge. That was partly the reason she was enjoying her sessions with Doctor Fields so much – she could release her frustrations without it getting to the rest of the crew. The only consolation she had was that so far she was being praised for her work – something she prided herself on.

With a last glance round, she saw the Chief greeting the woman with an enormous grin as they sat together and began discussing the work. She seemed to walk all over him.

'_She's so sleeping with one of them_,' she growled, and pounded the rest of the way to the launch bay.

***

Altogether fifty personnel had signed up to take the specially arranged EVA pilot training course, and were now gathered waiting to be sorted into their groups.

"Your attention please," Ford shouted above the chatter. "You'll shortly be assigned to your instructor, so listen carefully for your group number." He waited a moment for the chatter to die down before moving onto the next item of business. The man standing next to him was eyeing the recruits appraisingly, and they too were eyeing him. "You're lucky enough to have the UEO's best EVA pilot on hand to lead the session today. I'm sure you'll all give Chief Shan the attention and courtesy he deserves and thank him for giving his time for your benefit."

With that he handed the proceedings over to Shan, assisting to get all the groups led away to their relevant vehicles. He was to be with Shan in one of the Sea-Launches with Ensign Beddard and another five trainees. Brody had the unfortunate luck of being picked to oversee Piccolo's training in one of the Sea-Crabs – a fact neither seemed very enthusiastic about.

"You sure you're up to this?" Ford asked Shan before they climbed down the hatch.

"Come on, Jon. Where's your faith?" he winked.

"My faith will be restored if we all return in one piece," he retorted.

"This is your crew," Shan reminded him. "You gotta show them you trust them."

"You've obviously never met Tony Piccolo," he joked, before giving the hatch controller the thumbs up and following him down the ladder.

***

There they all were – smiling back at him.

Among the main exhibition was a cabinet filled with photographs of he and the crew who'd found the artefacts. He could hardly believe four years had passed since they'd made that discovery. In many ways it felt like no time at all, but in others it felt like a very long time ago indeed.

"They've certainly made a good job of the place," Kristin muttered beside him. "Oh, look at the Commander," she laughed, pointing out a picture of Jonathan in his wetsuit holding one of the 'book jars', and looking extremely pleased with himself.

"Yes, I have to agree," Nathan remarked. "It's a beautiful building." The ornate architectural splendour rose high above them into archways and domed ceilings, in keeping with the ancient monuments that inspired it.

"I'm glad you think so."

They both turned to be greeted with the smiling face of Rafik Hassan, who had been onboard at the time of the discovery.

"Doctor Hassan, good to see you," Nathan grinned, shaking his hand before stepping back to allow Kristin to greet him with an embrace.

"I hope the pictures aren't too embarrassing, but the exhibition wouldn't have been complete without paying tribute to you and your crew, Captain. After all – without your intervention, heaven knows where all these treasures would be. But instead they are here, all together to be enjoyed by everyone," he enthused.

"It was a little hairy there for a while though, wasn't it?" Kristin reminded them.

"I certainly won't forget it – that's for sure," Rafik agreed. "Speaking of hairy, I almost didn't recognise you," he joked, referring to the abundance of facial hair Nathan had once again developed over vacation.

"Oh," he smiled, absentmindedly stroking his chin. "Whenever I get off the boat I tend to let it grow. It'll become a nuisance in a couple of months and I'll shave it off again," he laughed. "How many nations contributed funding to get this place built?" he asked, bringing the conversation back to business.

"All the nations who have artefacts housed in the museum. It was a collective decision that we should all work together to ensure these pieces are preserved."

"It's a commendable exploit."

"And we hope it will continue to be," he smiled, clearly delighted. "Please excuse me, Captain, Doctor – I must keep moving round everyone. I look forward to your speech later," he added as he left them.

"Swell," Nathan grumbled, lifting a wine glass from a passing waiter and draining the contents. At his shoulder, Kristin simply laughed and linked her arm through his, leading him further through the exhibits.

***

"Easy, easy," Ford encouraged, watching as Beddard manoeuvred the Launch along the set course.

"Ok, throttle it back a little. You're coming in too hard to make the next turn," Shan warned.

"How?!?" she asked, panicked. So far most things during her career had come fairly naturally to her but Sea Launches were fast becoming her number one enemy. The cumbersome craft was so responsive that she'd quickly regretted having such a large breakfast, sending them bobbing on uncomfortable trajectories. Frustration at her failure and fear of doing something seriously wrong were now working against her.

"Ease off the throttle, and engage the reverse thrust," Shan instructed. He and Ford glanced at each other, watching as she slammed the craft into reverse, sending it spiralling in the wrong direction.

"I said 'easy', Ensign," Shan sighed, placing his hand against the hull to steady himself. "Are there any EVAs nearby?" he asked Ford.

"No, we got this stretch of the course to ourselves."

"In that case I want you to work your way out of this one yourself," Shan told Beddard.

"A little help would be appreciated, Chief," she grimaced, fighting against the launch.

"For starters you can stop fighting – go with it and balance it out smoothly. Don't jerk in the opposite direction. In normal operations, you _never_ jerk the controls – that's what sent you into this spiral."

Beddard blew out a sharp breath, trying to steady her stomach. The sweat had begun to form on her brow. '_Don't throw up! Don't throw up!"_ she told herself, though the churning in her belly told her it wasn't listening. '_Just concentrate_,' she breathed out again and began pressing on the thrusters, steering the rudder gently until the view outside the launch was decidedly less blurry.

"Good," Shan smiled, nodding at Ford. "Now realign yourself with the markers and continue through the course."

She blew out a relived sigh, smiling widely despite herself.

On either side of her, both Ford and Shan suddenly looked to starboard as a metallic flash whizzed by them. Ford immediately got on the radio.

"Mr Brody, how are things going down there?" he asked.

"Just dandy, Commander," he immediately quipped back.

Ford wasn't inclined to believe him – the sarcasm in his voice was all too obvious. "Why don't I believe you?"

"I don't know – maybe cause you just saw Piccolo almost kill us!"

"I did _not_ almost kill us – stop bein' so dramatic!" Piccolo drawled in the background. "I can't help it if you're a lousy teacher."

"Hey – I can pilot this thing with my eyes closed," Brody insisted, as Ford and Shan listened in, amused.

"Good for you – so how come you can never hit a bullseye with your eyes open?" Piccolo joked.

"Just shut-up and follow the course, Piccolo."

"Perhaps we'd better just leave you to it," Ford suggested.

"Good idea. See you back onboard, Brody out."

The occupants of the launch watched in partial disbelief as they watched the Seacrab snake off in the opposite direction.

"I thought you were kidding about that guy," Shan commented.

'_Suddenly I don't feel so bad about my performance,_' Beddard decided, biting her lip and proceeding with the rest of the test course.

***

He had issues – that much had probably been apparent to everyone around him since he hit puberty. But what youngster doesn't have issues and an accompanying attitude? During his early and mid-teens he could shrug it off as adolescent worries, but now, twenty and an adult in the eyes of all but his peers, he couldn't deny that his turbulent upbringing had left more than a few scars – of the variety that didn't want to heal.

Having Doctor Fields come aboard had been a blessing. He'd been ready to speak about everything and now he could do that with someone who wasn't related in any way to the rest of the crew. That was the problem with having a crew that was too much like a family; despite doctor-patient confidentiality, everything managed to get back to the Captain – or the rest of the boat. It wasn't that he didn't want their advice, but what he needed was someone impartial, and Doctor Fields provided that.

They were starting with two one-hour sessions a week. Since he wasn't going to be onboard for very long, Fields had suggested they work intensively to begin with and see where that got them. He had a very informal manner, which Lucas found comforting. He felt less that he was being examined and more that he was being helped, which, of course, was the aim.

Besides being an understanding ear, Richmond also took an interest in the multitude of projects he had running at any one time. In fact he took an interest in most things that went on aboard the seaQuest, constantly quizzing Lucas on whatever happened to catch his attention, his excuse being that he'd probably never be on a boat like it again, so he may as well make the most of it.

His security clearance was sufficient for Lucas to demonstrate some of the more classified projects to him and it was this that they had intended to do when Beth had entered the lab unexpectedly. She looked up from her palm-top, scanning them both briefly, before dismissing them as inconveniences and continuing to the workstation on the opposite side of the room.

"We're not disturbing you I hope," Richmond spoke, attempting to make peace. He still hadn't convinced the woman to begin her sessions with him and avoided him like a bad smell avoids an odour eater.

"Not at all," she replied, shrewdly, smiling up at them thinly.

Undeterred, he left Lucas' side and strolled across the lab towards where she was working. "What's that you're working on?" he asked, casually.

Lucas watched him, wondering intently whether the man had a death wish. Either that or he was insanely persistent. He supposed that a man in his line of work had to be persistent, otherwise he'd never be able to reach through the defensive layers of his patients. Beth's defences, on the other hand, Lucas guessed were a little different to ones he'd previously encountered. Emotionally armoured like a tank, she seemed to have developed an even stronger alloy over the summer, appearing almost arrogantly indifferent to the world around her. Of course, those who knew her weren't fooled by the act, but it had left her somewhat detached from the new crew, who were finding it hard to connect with such an icy assistant chief scientist.

"You're certainly not backwards at coming forwards are you, Doctor Fields?" she quipped, not taking her eyes off the console for one second.

"You never get anywhere by hiding," he replied.

He'd clearly hit a nerve – her flinch was noticeable even from where Lucas was seated.

"Excuse me, I have some things to do on the bridge," she said, deciding she couldn't stomach anymore.

After watching her leave, he returned to Lucas' workstation cringing. "I think perhaps I've said enough," he joked.

"She'll come round," Lucas reassured.

"Sure," he remarked, sarcastically. "I'll see this another time, alright? I have an appointment," he excused.

"Yeah, no problem." Lucas sat for a moment, the lab suddenly empty around him, then pulled himself, reluctantly, from his seat and chased down the deck in the direction Beth had taken.

"Hey!" he shouted at her rapidly retreating back, "I don't like this."

Her retreat stopped and she stood stock still, the heavy rise and fall of her shoulders betraying her own frustration. "Like what?" she asked, turning to face him.

The question was rhetorical – she knew exactly what he meant but he still played along.

"How things are between us," he began. "I don't even know what I've done."

"I don't trust him, you know that," she growled. "He makes me nervous. And the amount of time you're spending with him makes me nervous."

"The amount of time I spend with him has nothing to do with you; he's helping me," he said, waving his arm, exasperated. "I don't get why you don't trust him."

"I don't know what his agenda is. What's he doing here?"

"His job?" he quipped. "Not everyone has an agenda. And besides, I'm pretty sure he already knows about you."

The comment caught her off guard. "How would you know that?"

"What? Some strange guy comes aboard and you think I'm just gonna start telling him my life story without finding out whether he's got an agenda? Give me some credit," he quipped.

She pursed her mouth in an amused smile and waited for the full story.

"Last week when you stormed past us, ignoring us, _again_, he asked me whether you were always so closed-off. I told him that you had your moments, and he said '_Yes, well that's understandable_.'"

"He could just have been referring to the attack on UEO Headquarters."

"I don't think so. It was the way he said it."

"Even so, be careful what you say," she warned. "Until you know for sure."

"Yeah," he nodded. "So," he began, less strained now that they appeared to have patched things up. "I hear Chief Shan is back onboard. You gonna join us at mess when they get back?"

"Don't see why not – it'll be nice to hear what he's been up to." She paused briefly as a group of crewmembers walked by. "I gotta get back to the lab," she said, excusing herself.

"You just came from there. I thought you needed to go to the bridge."

"I didn't," her eyes flashed, mischievously, "I just needed an excuse."

"Right," Lucas nodded as she made to walk past him, back in the direction she'd come from. "I'll see you later then?" he asked, but she'd already rounded the corner out of earshot. '_Tenacious doesn't even cover it_,' he laughed quietly.

***

"Alright, alright. Listen up," Ford hollered above the excited racket in the launch bay. Having just returned from their first training session, the crew was on a high. "That was good work today. I'd like to congratulate those of you who passed the first stage, and for those of you who didn't – there's always next time. The next session will commence at 1000 hours tomorrow. Thank you," he concluded.

"Nice speech," Shan quipped, next to him, as they left the bay. "I'm surprised you're not saying things like that to your own crew by now."

Ford smiled and nodded. "It's not like I haven't had offers."

"Then what's the problem? That's where you want to be eventually isn't it?"

"Eventually, yes."

"Navy careers have a limited lifespan, Jon. What's the problem?"

"There isn't one. I like the seaQuest," he explained. "I still feel I can learn a lot here," he said in finality. "You ever regret leaving?"

"At the time, yes. But it's led to places I wouldn't have expected."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Shan nodded, looking slightly pleased with himself. "I have a bit of news for you, actually," he began, but was interrupted by the arrival of the, still warring, partnership of Brody and Piccolo.

"I swear, Commander, _nothing_, is gonna get me back in a Crab with _him_," Piccolo motioned towards Brody. "It's like being taught to drive by my Uncle."

"Tony, I'm not the problem. It's you who keeps stuffing up," Brody retorted.

"So I went right instead of left – it's not like we hit anything!"

"If I hadn't grabbed the stick we'd have gone _right_ into a cliff, Tony."

"Yeah, but we didn't, so it's all good," he insisted. "Oh God have mercy," he groaned as he spotted Dagwood mopping the deck ahead of them.

"Hi Tony!" he greeted, happily.

"Hey Dag, look I'll see you at mess, alright?"

"Okay!" he called after them as they climbed the stairs.

Ford shook his head in slight disappointment. "He's just looking for company, Tony."

"I know that, but he's had mine all summer."

"Are you joining us for something to eat, Commander?" Shan asked Brody.

"Uh, Nah, I have watch," he said, rolling his eyes. "Was good to meet you though. I'll probably see you tomorrow." He carried on up the stairs, while the others headed for the mess.

"Let's hope not," Piccolo quipped, earning a bat on the head from Ford.

***

"They all look pretty chummy, huh?" Rosa commented, as she and Lonnie ate together, watching the reunion of the original crewmembers across the mess.

Crammed together round a single table, they looked as though they'd never been apart – exchanging jokes, recalling past events, sharing experiences.

"Why wouldn't they be?" Lonnie answered, trying to sound disinterested.

"Oh, I wasn't suggesting there's a reason they wouldn't be, I just…" she trailed off, digging into her food, realising that if she said what she wanted to say she'd only sound ridiculous. "I was just making an observation," she stated.

"He did _what_?" Jonathan asked, though he wasn't really surprised to hear about any of Ben's antics anymore.

"Yeah," Will laughed through a mouthful of food, "he tried to convince us you'd gone nuts," he revealed, recalling the week during their first tour that Jonathan had been forced onto leave after seeing 'mermaids'. Ben had had a field day with that one, proclaiming to them all over lunch that the, normally collected, Commander had taken complete leave of his senses.

"What is it with you and going nuts on this boat, Commander?" Miguel teased.

"What does he mean by that?" Will asked.

"You're one to talk!" Jonathan retorted. "I wasn't the one brandishing a sword trying to turn Piccolo into fish cubes; though I can't say I wouldn't have tried," he joked.

"Sounds like I missed a lot," Will mused.

"You're not the only one, don't worry," Beth smiled. "They go off on a tangent every now and then – just ignore them," she teased, giving Miguel a flash of a mischievous grin, which he responded to by leaning over and nudging her affectionately.

"Speaking of things I've missed," Will added, looking directly at them.

They both glanced at him uncomfortably, knowing that one of the stipulations of them being allowed to work together was that they keep their relationship discreet.

"There's no need to look at me like that," he laughed. "What am I gonna do? Tell the Admiral?" he joked, setting them at ease. "So Lucas, what are the chances I'll get a ride in the Stinger while I'm here?"

"Uh, pretty good I think – she's in good shape. But it depends whether you think you can handle her or not."

The group round the table issued a communal clutter of, '_ooo_,' and '_uh oh_.'

"That sounds like a challenge to me," Tim commented, raising an eyebrow.

"Believe me, Lucas, I've had plenty practice handling women during my time – I think I can handle her," Will quipped.

"Speaking of handling women, how's the wife?" Jonathan asked.

"The wife?" Beth spluttered. This was a detail the men had neglected to mention. "You got married? When?"

Will laughed, and fished in his pocket for the photos he always carried, like talismans. "Just over two years ago," he said, handing over the picture of he and Marie. The other picture he held back, sheltering it from their view.

"Congratulations," she beamed at him. "You must be the first out of all of us," she added.

They all contemplated the fact and realised it was true, until Tim piped up, remembering about someone else.

"No, I heard Dalton got hitched a couple of years back," he told them.

Miguel snapped his gaze to him, surprised by the news. "You never told me that," he said, accusingly.

"Sorry," Tim shrugged.

"Remind me who's the couple here," Will teased, raising a laugh from them all. "Actually," he began, clearing his throat. "There's more than one woman in my life now."

Concerned and confused glances passed like wildfire round the table, speaking volumes over the stunned silence.

"Uh," Tim muttered.

"Her name is April," Will explained, pushing the photograph face down into the centre of the table. He waited to see which one of them would first pick it up to satisfy their curiosity, and laughed as Tim, Miguel and Beth all lunged for it at once. Seated between the two men, Beth took hold of it and turned it over. All three of them studied the picture carefully before flicking their eyes back up to him.

"You're a Dad?" Miguel asked, through a mouthful of protein.

"I'm a Dad," Will confirmed, beaming proudly.

"Outstanding," Jonathan grinned, giving him a firm handshake in congratulations, which was followed in quick succession by ones from the others. "Was that the news you wanted to tell me about earlier?"

"Yeah," Will grinned."

"How old is she?" Beth asked, still cradling the photo, tracing the lines of her rounded face, trying to determine who she most resembled.

"Seven months, and I've only seen her twice," he added with the hint of sadness they were all familiar with. Missing so much of family life went hand in hand with being in the Navy. He took back the picture and, along with the other one, placed it safely back in his pocket.

Thoughts around the table had most definitely turned to family and loved ones. While Will asked Jonathan, Tim and Lucas how theirs were doing, Miguel leaned over to Beth, realising they'd hardly spoken all week.

"How was your day?" he asked.

She looked at him, amused. "_How was my day_? Is that what we've been reduced to already?" she joked. "You'll have me feeling like an old married woman."

"Are you gonna answer the question?" he chuckled.

"Stressful," she sighed, simply. "How the UEO thinks we can cope with the same workload using less staff, I don't know. And on top of that…"

He looked up, wondering why she'd stopped. "What?"

"My PhD application has been accepted by UBC," she told him, tentatively, not sure how he would react.

"Right. So you're complaining about the workload, but applying to take on more," he stated.

"This is something I want to do. You could at least pretend to be pleased."

"_I am_," he reassured, gently brushing her thigh with his hand and feeling her tremble slightly under his touch. Those fleeting moments of physical contact were sometimes all they could manage. "I just didn't think you'd go ahead with it so soon."

"It'll take a couple of years to complete so I wanted to get started. Plus there's funding available now and Joshua put in a good word at the University."

"So he did all the talking for you, huh?" he teased.

"Excuse me? I have my own merits thank you," she insisted.

There was silence for a moment as they took another bite or forkful of their meal, allowing them to tune into the conversation across the table, where Lucas was regaling them with tales from his summer in BC.

"It'll be kinda sexy," Miguel mused.

"What will?" Beth asked, confused by the apparently random comment.

"_Doctor_ Allen." She laughed at the idea. "Just don't go over doing it," he told her, betraying his concern for the way she'd been throwing herself into her work. They all had their methods of coping, but not everyone took them to such an extreme, and he'd heard from several crew, not least Ensign Beddard, that the assistant Chief had earned herself quite a reputation.

"How's the 'sea-daddying' going?" she asked, as if following his line of thought.

"She's alright," he replied. "Stubborn as hell, but then I'm used to that," he teased.

"Funny," she grinned, as they found each others hands under cover of the table and entwined their fingers reassuringly.

***

"So remind me how this works again," Piccolo teased the following morning.

Beside him, Brody worked his knuckles in frustration. Despite efforts on both their parts, Ford had been adamant that he remain as Piccolo's instructor. "Shut-up and listen, Tony," he ordered, as Shan's voice called across on the inter-com, relaying instructions to all the EVAs taking part.

"Today's exercises will test not only your control of the craft, but how well you respond when an unexpected situation arises. As you complete the course, you will each be given a set of co-ordinates. Move your craft quickly and safely to those co-ordinates, where you will receive a further task."

"A bit ambiguous isn't it?" Piccolo quipped, immediately noticing the look of astonishment on Brody's face. "Hey, I know big words," he insisted.

"Sea-Crab four, enter the course on my mark," Ortiz instructed them, keeping tabs on all the EVAs with the WSKRS that continually circled nearby. "Mark."

"Roger that, Chief," Piccolo acknowledged and eased the craft forward, following the navigational charts they'd prepared that morning.

"A little less on the throttle," Brody instructed, seeing the gap between them and the Launch in front lessening a little too quickly.

Piccolo followed the order without hesitation. Despite what they all thought; passing these exams was something he really did want to achieve. But being the boat's clown was a hard role to maintain, so he had to keep up appearances, no matter how much it irritated his superiors.

It wasn't just about keeping up appearances either; it was easier being the clown. He'd discovered fairly quickly that no one expects high standards from someone who continually acts the goat, so he preferred to keep it that way – less pressure. But even so, that didn't mean he didn't have standards set for himself, and passing these exams with at least half-decent scores was definitely one of them.

Their co-ordinates began to come in, and he promptly loaded them into the navigational system.

"Adjusting course, relative bearing 051 degrees. Adjusting elevation to 2,083 feet," he added, commentating on his own actions so Brody would know exactly what his thought processes were. That was one thing his uncle had told him while he teaching him how to drive. '_Don't worry if you need to talk yourself through it. In fact your examiner will probably thank you for it – it lets them see that you actually know what you're doing, and that you're not just getting lucky._'

"There are some pretty strong currents over this ridge; watch out for that," Brody told him.

"No worries, Commander, I got it in hand," he smiled. Sometimes he just couldn't help himself. Suddenly the Crab lurched in an unexpected direction. "That didn't feel like currents," he mused, while ensuring the craft didn't spiral away.

Brody peered out of the windows around them in an attempt to spot any obvious debris they could have collided with. With all the lights from the seaQuest, the WSKRS and the other EVAs, he could see around him quite clearly, but there was nothing close enough by that they could have hit. "Just keep going, Tony," he decided.

No sooner had the words left his mouth before the Crab was jostled again, this time far more violently.

"I didn't do anything!" Tony shouted, panicked.

"No Tony, I think something hit us."

"What?"

"I'm not sure. Keep the Crab stable," Brody ordered, having another quick look around them into the light punctuated blackness, before radioing back to the boat. "Sea-Crab four to seaQuest. Ortiz, are there any other subs active in this area?"

"Not that I'm detecting, Commander."

"What about rip currents? Have any other EVAs reported problems?"

"None whatsoever. You sure it's not just Piccolo?" he joked.

"Yeah, very funny, Ortiz," Piccolo quipped.

"You want me to put a WSKR on your location?"

"No thanks, we can take it from here. Out."

"What's the orders, Commander?" Piccolo asked.

"Let's head back to the course, but slowly. I want a good look around," Brody ordered.

"Aye, Sir." He carefully edged the Crab back to face the direction they'd come from, but something seemed determined to keep them where they were.

With a fierce '_crash,' _the Crab was pushed through the water away from the EVA course.

"Ok, this isn't fun anymore," Piccolo choked. The force of the impact sent the Crab spiralling and glued the men to the backs of their seats.

"Level it out!" Brody barked through gritted teeth.

"I'm trying!"

The spiral stopped abruptly as whatever they were impacting knocked them on the other side, countering the spin. But it took a little longer for their bodies to adjust and the world to stop spinning in front of their eyes.

"You see anything?" Brody asked.

"Not a…woah!" he exclaimed as they were given another shove. They both frantically gazed out of the window, desperately trying to identify their attacker.

"If this is Chief Shan's idea of an examination, I think I'd rather fail," Tony said, his heart hammering. Whatever this was, it wasn't part of the test – Brody's concern told him that.

They ducked suddenly as a huge dark mass shot over the top of them.

"What the hell was that?" Piccolo asked.

"It's heading away," Brody observed. "How about getting us out of here?"

"Sure thing." With the fastest response time Shan was likely to see in a rookie pilot, he swung the Crab round and set in an emergency course for the seaQuest. He felt the stick vibrate as something large moved quickly by them. "Commander…"

"Yeah, I'm on it," Brody shot back, moving the spotlights to focus directly ahead of them.

Stunned by the sudden brightness, their assailant weaved out of the beams in a flash of green, before adjusting to the light and charging in a full on assault.

***

Despite not requesting one, Ortiz had been intrigued by the Commander's queries, so had sent a WSKR to investigate anyway. The data it was kicking back was nothing short of bizarre. The craft appeared to be hurtling this way and that in random trajectories that didn't resemble any training scenario he'd ever encountered. They didn't appear to be alone out there either; Mother was picking up a faint bio-signature.

As their movements became more and more unstable, he got on the radio to Ford.

"Commander, Sea-Crab four appears to have got into some trouble about half a click from your position. I've had a WSKR on it. Looks like they've lost control," he informed them.

"Alright, Ortiz, we'll go take a look," Ford answered. "Maintain radio contact."

Seated at the controls, Beddard felt an odd pang of excitement at hearing his voice over the radio. It felt good to know he was watching out for them. She could feel the two men seated either side silently conferring over how best to proceed. It seemed she wasn't going to be taking the helm for this part of the expedition.

"Better let the Chief take over here, Ensign," Ford told her.

She complied without question, swapping seats with Shan and taking note of the ease with which he handled the craft, despite its size and awkward shape. Sea-Launches weren't the most manoeuvrable vehicles in the fleet; they were heavy and clumsy, but they served their purpose well.

As they made their way over, Ford attempted to radio Brody, but couldn't get any response. Beddard could see that concern was beginning to gnaw at him. It wasn't like the Commander to ignore a radio call, not least from the XO.

"There's the WSKR," Shan told them, pointing out the satellite where it bobbed, marking the position of the renegade Crab.

Beddard sat up eagerly, trying to spot the vehicle in one of the roving spotlights.

"Brody this is Ford, do you read?" he tried again.

"C…nder?" Brody's voice strained across the airwaves.

"What's your situation, Commander?" Ford asked anxiously.

"Something's baring down on us!" he yelled back. "…can't see a damn thing!"

Shan sat shaking his head in frustration as he moved the spotlights back and forth in an attempt to locate them. "They've got to be moving around, otherwise we'd have fixed on them by now."

"Can you keep the Crab still?" Ford asked.

"Not a chance!" Piccolo barked back.

Suddenly there was a metallic flash in the beams of the WSKR, followed by the looming shadow of something all too horrifyingly familiar.

Beddard looked across and was taken aback by the fear spread visibly across the Commanders features.

"It's attacking them alright, whatever it is," Shan commented then, also, noticed Ford frozen in his seat. "Jon, what is it?"

Ford didn't respond to him, instead focused single-mindedly on getting Brody and Piccolo out of there. "Brody…"

"Can you see anything? What is it?" Brody asked them, desperately.

"It's a _Deinosuchus_," Ford answered coldly. He was positive – there was nothing else it could be. And he should know – he'd come within inches of being eaten by one.

"A _what_?!?" Brody exclaimed.

"Ah jeez, you gotta be kiddin' me! The walligator?" Piccolo added.

The passengers in the launch flinched as they watched their crewmates take another hit from the massive prehistoric beast.

"Jon, what is that thing?" Shan asked.

"We haven't got time for explanations. Brody, we're gonna send in a WSKR to distract it. As soon as it turns, make a break for it."

"No use, Commander, we've lost altitude control…Jesus!" he yelled out. The attack was relentless.

In desperation, Shan turned all the spotlights onto the creature, and blanched as it swung round sharply to face them.

"Jonathan, get out of here!" Brody shouted to them.

He sat frozen for an instant, wholly reluctant to leave his friend to the mercy of that _thing_.

"Commander?" Shan asked, urgently.

"Do as he says, take us home," he ordered. "Brody, dive! We'll be back."

"You'd better be!"

***

To his relief, the speech had gone down well, and hadn't been as unnerving as he'd initially imagined. Engrossed in fine wine and conversation, the previous days festivities had flown by. Now, after a leisurely morning, he and Kristin found themselves at the mercy of various press officers, keen to interview the Captain of the vessel that had originally found the artefacts.

"What was your initial reaction?" he was asked for about the eleventh time.

"One of astonishment, as I'm sure you can imagine," he answered politely.

Beside him, Kristin did the same, occasionally stopping to pose for a photograph.

"I think I've pulled a muscle," she said, working her jaw furiously to release the smile that had become pinned to her features. They had a few minutes reprieve before the next batch of vultures was allowed access to them. "I have to admit, I thought we'd have a little more leisure time," she added.

He laughed. "This isn't shore leave, Kristin."

"A girl can dream," she winked.

"As long as she keeps her feet on the ground, I've got no problem," he quipped.

"Oh, I don't know. A little cloud hopping every now and then doesn't do anyone any harm. After all, what is it they say? '_A winner is a dreamer that never quits_,'" she recited, teasing. After not receiving a response, she turned the conversation back to something more grounded. "What time are we due back on the boat?"

"1700," he told her. "In time for departure at 1800." He paused and looked up as the next batch of journalists were released into the room. As focused as he was on the approaching hoard, it took a moment to realise that the persistent ringing was coming from his own pocket. "Excuse me, gentlemen," he apologised, pulling out his PAL and backing away to a corner of the room. "Bridger," he answered.

"Captain, we need you back on the boat," Ford wheezed.

"Calm down, Commander."

"I'm sorry, Sir. But we have a problem."

"What kind of problem?" he asked, sceptically, catching Kristin's wary glance.

"A big one, Captain; a very big one."


	3. Chapter 3

**_Apologies for the long break - I've become a little disillusioned with the fact I'm putting a lot of effort into these stories and yet they're receiving very little feedback. I do, however, realise it's due to the fact it's off canon and includes a lot about an OC and that isn't most people's cup of tea (or coffee).  
This story is complete so I'll finish posting it, and I'm already halfway through another so I'll finish that one too, but after that we'll just have to wait and see.  
I really appreciate the reviews from everyone who has stuck with me this far - thank you x_**

* * *

'_We could have handled this ourselves_,' Ford chided himself as he walked the decks to the launch bay, where the Captain would be docking any minute.

In sheer disbelief at having been confronted with an extinct prehistoric carnivore for the second time in a year, he had instantly asked Bridger to return to the boat. Unfortunately, as soon as his mind had stopped racing enough to think straight, he'd also instantly regretted the decision. It was a simple rescue op – he'd been able to co-ordinate those himself for years. But after the rescue there would be bigger implications to confront, so it was just as well that Bridger would be along for the whole ride. The thought did little to reassure him; he still felt like a fool. In fact he was beginning to feel like everyone thought him a fool these days.

Recently he'd begun to seriously wonder whether refusing the Captain's position on the Clinton three years ago had been such a wise move. On the one hand what he'd said to Shan was true – he was content to remain aboard the seaQuest. It was the most advanced boat in the fleet and there was always something going on. But on the flip side, as time went by, he was beginning to detect an increasing amount of scorn from his peers – derision almost, as if they thought him incapable of rising any further through the ranks. No matter that it wasn't true – the fact he knew others were thinking it made him self-conscious; something he hadn't felt since his early years in high school, and that in turn made him angry.

'_I do things for my own reasons, not anybody else's_,' he reminded himself, sternly, before coming to a halt in front of the docking platform.

It hadn't taken long for the Captain to return. Surely no time had been wasted in finding a launch to bring them back.

"Commander," he greeted, enthusiastically, almost skipping down the stairs from the hatch.

"I'm sorry, Captain," Ford told him.

"No need to apologise," Bridger reassured, looking behind him to ensure Kristin was following. "You did us a favour," he grinned, briefly, before setting his mind to the task in front of them. "What's the latest?"

The reply came from a man who emerged from the bustle around them. "The last report we had from Brody was that the launch had lost all propulsion but they'd managed to set it down on the seabed."

"Well, Chief Shan," Bridger smiled, shaking his hand firmly. "Good to have you with us again."

"Thank you, Captain. Doctor," he greeted, as Kristin joined them.

"So, where's the crocodile?" she asked.

"We're not sure," Ford admitted.

"Not sure? Is it still in the area?" Bridger asked, slightly frustrated that his crew had let the creature slip away undetected.

"There's been no contact for the last hour. As soon as it appears I'll have Ortiz tag it so we can keep track of its movements."

"Good, but right now I think we should concentrate on getting Brody and Piccolo back onboard. Do we have a plan?"

Ford and Shan looked at one another questioningly. Clearly a plan had been cooked up, but from the looks of things it wasn't of the conventional sort.

"In case the crocodile is still hanging around – we're gonna need a decoy," Ford told him.

"And just what were you thinking that decoy might be?" Bridger asked, sceptically. "You're not planning on using Darwin?"

"No, Sir," Ford said, cautiously.

"Then what?"

"Me," Shan said simply, "in the Stinger."

Bridger looked at them both in amusement. As unconventional as it was, it wasn't half bad either. "Alright, let's give it a shot."

"Are they hurt?" Kristin asked.

"A few scrapes and bruises. I think the Crab is worse off," Ford joked.

"I'll prep med-bay just in case," she announced, slinging her bag over her shoulder and going to leave.

"And have the science staff dig up all the information they can on the _Deinosuchus_," Bridger called after her, receiving a nod in response. He turned to the men in front of him. "Let's get to work, gentlemen."

***

"_Oh the big ship sails on the alley-alley-oh, the alley-alley-oh, the alley-alley, oh. Oh the big ship sails on the alley-alley-oh, on the last day of September…_"

"Is that the best you could come up with?" Tony quipped, both amused and aggravated by Jim's incessant humming.

"Sorry," Jim smiled, thinly. "It's just something I used to do before we went into combat – calms the nerves."

"A nursery rhyme?"

"One my grandfather used to sing," Jim admitted casually, before wondering why in the world he would choose to reveal such a thing to Tony Piccolo of all people.

The two of them had been grounded in the Crab for almost two hours, waiting for what they hoped would be a rescue mission. Though by the time it was taking them and the rate they were running out of air, it would soon turn into a salvage op – a thought that had been running through both their minds.

They'd tried to restore power to propulsion, but the damage they'd taken had been to the outside and they just weren't capable of repairing it with the limited equipment they had onboard.

"Sir?" Tony asked, tentatively.

"Yeah?"

"Do you have regrets?"

Jim let a laugh escape, despite himself. "We're not gonna die down here, Tony," he stated. "We've been in worse situations than this."

"You say that, and my brain says that, but the thought keeps comin' through. You can't help it sometimes."

It wasn't like Tony to be openly sincere; what sincerity he had was usually shrouded in bluster and mouthy comments, so now he _was_ speaking freely about something so personal, Jim thought it best to go with it. "Everyone has regrets," he said, answering the initial question.

"Did the attack at Cape Quest make you wanna do something about 'em?"

"Where's this going? You having a sudden attack of conscience down here or something?"

"It's just…I know life can be a drag, and sometimes it feels like some days and weeks will never end, but if there's one thing the attack made me realise, it's that we just don't have enough time."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean there's barely enough time to enjoy the good stuff as it is, so why waste it worrying about stuff you're never gonna change?"

Jim sat silently – suddenly recalling all the mental turmoil the attack on UEO headquarters had kicked up.

"I thought a lot about that over the summer. I guess bein' down here brings it all out again," Tony stated.

"Yeah. Me too," Jim added, staring distractedly out of the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of a spotlight heading their way.

"So how does that song go again…?"

***

"So what do I do?" Beddard asked.

"At this precise moment in time, nothing," Ortiz answered simply.

"Nothing?" she asked, indignantly.

"That's right. You're observing," he told her. "Can't afford to put a rookie on the controls, but the Captain thought you might like to sit in on this one." He and O'Neill stifled grins as she sat herself down, looking deflated. She was young and still had a lot to learn. She reminded them both of how naïve Henderson had been when she first joined the crew. It hadn't taken her long to adjust to life onboard, but Beddard seemed to be taking a little longer. O'Neill had advised that Ortiz be a little harder on her.

"_I am not molly-coddling," Ortiz had complained._

"_You are," O'Neill insisted. "You're treating her exactly how you treated Beth when she first arrived."_

"_So?"_

"So, Beddard is military – she needs to learn the ropes."

Ortiz had to admit he'd been right, so over the last couple of days he'd tried to stick to business and cut out the unnecessary chitchat she seemed so fond of.

"MR-3 to bridge, beginning launch prep," Ford spoke through the comms.

"Roger that, Commander," O'Neill responded.

"What's that you're doing?" Beddard asked, watching O'Neill at work.

"You're not supposed to be watching me," he quipped, but since she'd asked… "I'm filtering through the radio bands so I can keep track of everyone."

"And while you were listening to Tim, I bet you missed what I just did, huh?" Ortiz frowned. Her blank look confirmed the assumption. "Pay attention," he warned, and turned his attention back to his screen to answer an incoming video call. "Miss Allen," he smiled, teasing.

"Mr Ortiz," she mirrored.

"What can I do for you?"

"I'm trying to pull data together for the briefing. Can you send me through any video images Mother kicked back while she was out?"

"Sure," he nodded.

"Thanks. Keep me posted?"

"Roger that," he agreed, watching as she nodded and gave a thin smile, before signing off. Clearly Jim's safety was playing on her mind.

"Doesn't she know we're trying to launch a rescue mission?" Beddard quipped beside him.

"Hey, enough. It's not a problem," he barked.

"I'm just saying; she could have done that herself."

"Actually she couldn't. WSKR data feeds can't be accessed without bridge authorisation." The comment silenced her. "The scientists aren't our enemies," he reminded her, "I don't know why you've got it in for them so bad, but it needs to stop," he told her, matter-of-factly.

"Not scientists, just _her_," she mumbled.

O'Neill looked up from his console, surprised by the, all too audible, comment.

"Care to repeat that, Ensign?" Ortiz asked, positioning Loner by the launch bay, ready to follow the Commanders' course.

"Sorry, Chief," she mumbled, her cheeks brightening to match the console in front of her.

"On this boat, if you're gonna make a comment like that – be prepared to defend it. We're good to go, Tim," he called out.

To his right, Beddard obviously realised she'd overstepped the mark; the tension in her body quickly turned to remorse and embarrassment as she noticed the Captain enter the bridge.

"Situation report, Lieutenant," he asked O'Neill.

"Both Commander Ford and Chief Shan are conducting their final launch prep, Sir," he informed him.

"Good. I want this clean and easy, people. No mistakes."

***

Ford let a low whistle escape as he watched Shan shoot out of the docking bay in the Stinger. Good job Lucas hadn't seen that; he could just picture the deep shade of green his eyes would have turned.

He checked over his controls and ran the plan over in his head one last time. There still hadn't been any sightings of the crocodile, but that didn't mean it wasn't out there lurking somewhere. For that reason, Shan was to run a constant perimeter around the area, trying to look as tasty as possible, so that if it did appear, it would be more likely to go after him than try to retake the Crab. Following that, Ford would move in to dock with the Crab and move Brody and Piccolo back to the seaQuest. For the meantime they were leaving the stricken EVA behind; there was no time to linger. Once the area was secure they would deploy a repair team, but right now their people were the most important concern.

This was the second time the creature had crossed their paths – the second time it had threatened members of their crew – this was getting a little too personal. Ford shook his head, '_Is it healthy to want revenge so much on an animal?_' he wondered, laughing at how ludicrous it sounded. At least maybe now Brody would stop hassling him about it.

***

"Run out of sea shanties?" Piccolo joked, slightly unnerved at how quiet Brody had fallen over the last five minutes.

"No," he answered, abruptly, continuing to stare out the front window.

"Wonder what's takin' em so long."

"You don't have to fill every silence."

"It helps with the nerves."

"It doesn't help with mine."

"I didn't think Commanders got nervous."

"Sure we do, it's just our job to hide it so we can lead the crew."

"Great job you're doin', I feel very reassured."

Brody sighed and looked at him with tired exasperation. "Sometimes it works better to be a human rather than an officer."

Piccolo nodded, appreciating the sentiment, before his instincts took over and he cracked the subdued atmosphere with a characteristic comment. "Yeah, I forget that sometimes."

"You both about done down there?"

They both started in relief at Ford's call through the radio. Brody immediately pulled on his headset to reply. "About time, what took you so long?"

"We thought we'd give it enough time to finish you off, but I guess it doesn't like its food tin canned," Ford joked.

"Very funny, Commander. Can we get a move on please?"

"I'm inbound in 90 seconds. Prepare for a hard dock."

"Roger that," Brody signed off. "Piccolo, grab the computer's memory."

"What for?" he asked, sliding from his chair to prise open the hatch under the controls.

"We never leave anything sensitive behind."

"Right," Piccolo groaned, detaching the hard drive and pulling himself vertical again. He looked up to see Brody braced against the opposite wall.

"You'd better hold onto something."

He barely had time to cram the hard drive into his vest before the Crab was jolted by the impact of the Launch docking, sending him sprawling to the deck. "Argh!" he groaned, testing his wrist for movement as he stood up.

"Anything broken?" Brody asked, climbing up to release the hatch.

"Naw, I don't think so."

They both pulled on the hatch until it opened with a hiss, pulling back to reveal Ford's irritatingly happy face.

"Well, well, good afternoon gentlemen," he teased. "What seems to be the problem?"

"I'm not sure our insurance policy covers rampaging predators," Piccolo joked.

"Probably not," Ford agreed, letting down one of his hands to pull Brody through the hatch into the launch, then doing the same for Piccolo. "Buckle in," he told them. "I'm not lingering out here any longer than we have to."

"Is it still out there?" Brody asked as he seated himself in the cockpit next to Ford, while Piccolo took a seat in the main hold.

"Of course it's still out there, we just don't know where," Ford answered.

"Great."

"seaQuest, this is Ford; I have them and we're heading back home. Have Shan continue his sweeps until we're secured."

"Roger that, Commander," O'Neill replied.

"So what's the next move?" Brody asked.

"Not sure. The Captain is holding a briefing in an hour, so we'll find out then."

"As long as we get to fry its' ass, I don't care."

"Say that around the conservationists and it's your ass that'll be fried," Ford laughed.

"Then maybe _they_ should try being on its' lunchtime menu."

"Easy, Commander. Let's just see what everyone has to say."

***

"Pretty big coincidence don't you think?"

"I guess."

"You guess? An extinct predator gets thawed out_ twice_, and both times ends up attacking some of our crew."

"It's not like it's some _Deinosuchus_ master plan," Ortiz quipped at his friend. He and O'Neill were on their way to the wardroom to discuss, with the rest of the senior staff, what they were going to do about the rogue animal. "You're not gonna get all religious on me are you? Over a crocodile?"

"I'm just marvelling at the irony of the universe," O'Neill insisted.

"Irony is a good word," he agreed, slowing his pace as the mag-lev doors opened, allowing Lucas and Beth to step into the corridor just ahead of them. "Hey."

They pulled themselves from their animated conversation to look behind at who'd called out and fell into step beside them.

"Hey, nice job with the rescue. I hear everyone's alright," Beth commented.

"Yeah, it went well," O'Neill added.

"Too well. Means something else is bound to go wrong."

"Such a pessimist," Beth laughed, batting him with her folders.

"What? I'm just saying, it was difficult enough dealing with this thing the first time, and we're thousands of miles away from any ice caps, so where did it come from?"

"Good question."

Lucas and Beth exchanged a guarded look. "We have some ideas on that," Lucas told them.

"None of which you're going to like," Beth added.

"Great," Miguel sighed, waving Beth into the wardroom ahead of him before following after. Most of the staff had already assembled and were seated round the table, waiting on the Captain and Westphalen.

"So you got off unscathed, huh?" Beth teased, smiling in Jim's direction.

"You didn't really think some overgrown lizard was gonna get the better of me, did you?"

"Course not," she replied, shaking her head while the others in the room managed to contain their sarcasm under stifled smiles.

"That _over grown lizard_ is going to get the better of a lot more than us if we don't get a handle on it," Bridger announced as he entered the room, causing his staff to stand on reflex. "As you were," he told them, before taking his position at the head of the table. Doctor Westphalen took the seat to his right, spreading her documents out next to Lucas and Beth's. "I guess short of asking what we do about it, the first questions we need to ask are how did this creature get here and how has it gone un-noticed for so long."

"We've looked into local records and there have been a number of recent reports concerning animal attacks and missing persons along the southern perimeter of the basin," O'Neill informed them. "But, going back a few more months, the attacks extend over a much wider area."

"That's understandable, it's a big animal, it's home range is bound to cover a wide area," Westphalen agreed.

"Didn't the local police connect the dots?" Brody asked.

"The reports occur in at least twelve different countries. From a local perspective, the attacks didn't have a pattern and didn't warrant further investigation," Ortiz explained.

"Even if it had I doubt their first hypothesis would have involved a 200 foot crocodile," Lucas joked.

"What I don't understand, Sir, is how it ended up here," Ford began. "We froze the thing solid."

"Global warming, that's how," Westphalen stated, matter-of-factly. "With the current rate of ice melt it could easily have thawed out."

"But we first encountered it in the South Atlantic and we froze it in the Antarctic. There must be a hundred suitable feeding grounds between there and here. Why did it come so far? Why didn't it just go back to where it was before?"

"You're assuming it's the same animal," Beth interjected.

"There's more than one?" Brody asked, aghast at the idea.

"From what we've seen on the video footage, yes, it appears that way," Westphalen agreed.

"How can you tell?" Ford asked.

"This _Deinosuchus_ is smaller," Lucas told them, activating the vid-screen behind them and loading the video stills from the two encounters. "See? This one is at least fifty feet shorter."

Brody wasn't convinced. "It looked pretty big to me."

"Things always look bigger underwater, Jim," Beth winked.

"Alright, enough," Bridger growled, keen to stop any bickering before it began. "Is this evidence conclusive?"

The three scientists glanced at each other dejectedly before Lucas answered. "Simply put, no. The camera angles are different, the lighting is poor and the Crab was moving pretty fast so even the best images are blurred."

"Can you confirm this any other way?"

"What does it matter? There's a giant crocodile out there terrorising the local population – we need to deal with it," Brody stated.

"It matters because it changes the context," Westphalen explained. "We shouldn't act until we have all the information."

"Going back to my question, can you confirm that this is a separate animal?"

"Well, short of getting someone to dig around in the Antarctic to see if your specimen is still there…we need a DNA sample," Beth suggested. "We still have the DNA profile of the first _Deinosuchus_ in the database. If we had a sample to compare it to, we could determine whether they're separate individuals. It might have left some skin on the Crab, but since it's still stranded on the seabed…"

"We need to track this thing down and get one first hand," Ford stated.

"Not necessarily," Westphalen added, contemplating the idea. "If you could find a site where it's killed recently, you might find some saliva, blood even. It's common for predators to be wounded during an attack."

"Volunteering there, Doctor?" Ford teased.

"Me? Whatever for?"

"Well, we'll need someone from the science staff overseeing the operation," Bridger joined in.

"Oh come on, Nathan. Look at us three, and you tell me who is best equipped for hunting down an extinct super predator."

The amused eyes of the crew scanned down the line of scientists, wondering who would take up the challenge.

"That would be you then, Lucas," Beth smiled.

"Hey, I'm not a biologist," he defended.

"I'm kidding, I'll go," she volunteered.

"Good, so we're agreed," Bridger nodded. "First we determine whether this is the same animal we encountered before, then we go from there." The assembled staff nodded in agreement, some more enthusiastically than others. "We'll need an area to concentrate the search. Mr O'Neill, locate the site of the most recent report matching our crocodile and we'll start there."

"Aye, Sir."

"Then report to Commander's Ford and Brody. I want you to see what you can get from the locals."

"Aye, Sir," he repeated, his enthusiasm doubled at the thought of going out in the field for a change.

"Commander, take Ortiz too. Get yourselves ready to move out within 30 minutes."

"Understood, Sir."

Sensing he'd said all he needed to, Bridger began to stand, prompting his staff to do the same. He nodded, indicating they could leave and begin their preparations. "Oh," he said, stopping them. "Be subtle about this. The coastline of this region is densely populated; we don't want to be responsible for starting a panic," he warned them. They nodded in response and continued to leave, with Westphalen remaining behind.

"So what did Doctor Hassan have to say about our swift exit?" she asked.

"He didn't seem to mind. I think he was just as frustrated by the press as we were."

"That I can believe. So what exactly are Lucas and I meant to do while that lot are out sunning themselves?"

"You had your chance," he laughed.

"Oh, I'm fine down here," she insisted, holding up her hands.

"We could do with finding out exactly where this creature has been."

"Consider it done," she smiled.

They both looked round as a knock sounded from the door. "Come in."

"Sir?" Shan entered slowly.

"Mr Shan, you must be eager to get back to the mainland."

"Yes, Sir, but while the training sessions are on hold I wondered whether I could be doing anything of use."

"Well, Commander Ford is just about to go topside for a field survey, but there are always things to be done, EVA maintenance to perform, that kind of thing. What do you think?"

"I think I'll catch up to the Commander," he grinned, sheepishly.

"I thought that might be the case. Get him to brief you on the situation."

"Thank you, Sir," he said, cheerfully before bounding out the door after the others.

"Hmm, for a moment there I thought I might have had a helper," Westphalen mused, moving towards the door.

"Sorry, you're on your own there, Kristin," Bridger laughed.

"Don't I know it," she sighed and, following everyone else's lead, left to do her job.

***

"Good thing we got off-road vehicles," Shan commented, bracing himself as the jeep lurched through another pot-hole. "I didn't realise these roads would be so bad."

"These aren't tourist haunts that's for sure," Ford agreed, looking out the passenger window at the small sprawl of houses they'd come upon while following O'Neill's directions. The latest string of attacks appeared to be centred round an area of the Turkish coast, not far from where the EVA training had been taking place. "That's probably another reason why the attacks have gone un-noticed; they were off the beaten track."

"You know it's possible it could have been avoiding areas of high traffic," Beth added from one of the seats in the back.

"Then what was it doing around us?" Brody asked beside her.

"Maybe _you_ invaded its' territory," she suggested.

"Hey, don't look at me, it was Piccolo," he retorted, prompting a chorus of disbelieving sniggers through the jeep.

Out of the windows, the sprawl of houses was gathering into the form of a small town huddled along the edge of the basin. Deciding it was as good a place to start as any, Ford threaded the jeep through the convoluted alleys and drew to a stop by the shore where they began to unload. Caught up in the idea of hunting the creature down, the men instantly pulled on their rifles, giving Ford cause for concern.

"I don't think so, guys," he told them. "We need to keep this low-key, remember? Standard pistols only."

"Pistols aren't gonna be much use if we come up against that thing," Brody pointed out.

Although not standard protocol Ford was inclined to agree. A creature with that much muscle mass and hardened scales wasn't likely to be affected by laser pulses. "Alright, take pistols with live rounds. You're more likely to do some damage that way."

"I didn't think doing damage was the objective," Beth protested.

"Listen, I'm all for conservation and what not but, if that thing tries to eat me again, I'm not gonna hesitate to defend myself," Brody stated.

It was a sentiment Ford definitely agreed with, only he wasn't as inclined to say it out loud as Brody seemed to be. It wasn't likely to land him in much favour with Beth and Westphalen. "Brody, head into the town, see what information you can get from the locals. We're going to start here and track eastwards along the shore. Once you're done, radio me for our position and rendezvous with us there."

From the looks of things it wasn't going to be difficult tracking down any of the local citizens; their arrival had already stirred up a fair amount of interest. "Roger that, let's move," he ordered, leading O'Neill and Shan up the road towards the main street, or what they guessed was the main street. Upon reaching it, they stood for a while, not sure who to approach first, or how to go about it.

"Where do we start?" O'Neill asked.

"You're the linguist, make small talk," Brody joked.

Not far away from them, talking quietly on the other side of the road, were two women, who were also eyeing them suspiciously. '_Here goes nothing_,' O'Neill thought, as he cleared his throat and headed towards them, his breath rasping nervously. It wasn't the fact he was supposed to ask them about an enormous crocodile that made him anxious; they were women and no matter what nationality they were, those members of the species spoke a language he'd never quite been able to get to grips with. "Selam," he smiled, raising his hand in greeting. "Ben Lieutenant Tim O'Neill, um, gezdiniz büyük bir timsah?" he asked, sheepishly.

Brody and Shan watched with amusement as the two women giggled to themselves before walking away. O'Neill turned back to them and shrugged.

"Maybe we're asking the wrong people," Brody suggested.

"Maybe they just don't like talking to strangers," Shan added.

No sooner had O'Neill rejoined them than another opportunity headed their way in the form of a middle-aged man walking with a young girl.

"Uh, affedersiniz, beyefendi. Gezdiniz büyük bir timsah?" O'Neill repeated, but the man simply waved them out of his way and continued on down the street.

"This could take a while," Shan remarked.

Frustrated, Brody walked into the centre of the street and began gesticulating with his arms. "Mondo snap snap?" he asked, mimicking the jaws of a crocodile opening and closing. The other two men simply shook their heads in dismay. Dealing with the locals wasn't exactly something the Lieutenant Commander was renowned for.

"Uh, Commander?" Shan cleared his throat, indicating towards the group of three men who were standing watching the display.

"Sen burada da hakkında timsah?" one of them asked.

Brody turned towards O'Neill for a translation.

"They're wondering if we're here about the crocodile," he informed him.

"Huh, looks like we might get somewhere after all," Brody remarked.

***

Ford had watched the party move off for a moment before leading Ortiz and Beth down to the shore. Beth immediately assumed the lead, and seeing no harm in it he let her carry on while Ortiz took the flank and he walked between them.

The sand along the shore was undisturbed save for where local fisherman had hauled their boats up to moorings among the dunes and vegetation. The local wildlife seemed fairly at ease too; in fact there were no obvious signs to suggest the creature had used that particular stretch of beach recently.

Ford watched with interest as Beth scanned along the shore and wondered what she was looking out for.

"What kind of sign posts do crocodiles leave anyway?" Ortiz asked, mirroring his thoughts.

"The usual sand disturbances," Beth answered. "A long trail in the sand where it's tail is being dragged, with claw marks a few feet apart on either side. Though this thing is so big it's possible we could miss its' tracks; they might not be so obvious."

"So we're not looking for piles of crocodile poop then?" he joked.

"No. And we really need to stop calling it a crocodile."

"Why? That's what it is," he answered back, giving Ford a laugh.

"It's a relative of the alligator."

"I thought alligators lived in freshwater," Ford stated.

"Modern day ones, yeah, but _Deinosuchus_ remains have mostly been found in estuaries and coastal regions. That's why it's so exciting to have actual data on this thing. We can find out how accurate the archaeological evidence is."

"How about we call it a crocigator? Or an allidile?" Ortiz chuckled.

Ford and Beth simply shook their heads and shot him looks of disbelief.

"Very good, Ortiz. I can see why the Captain put you forward for this," Ford teased.

"Why? Comic relief?" he asked, hopefully.

"Yeah, you could put it that way. So that when that thing attacks, you can bore it to death while we make our escape."

"Jee, thanks Commander," he huffed, but didn't take offence to the comment, knowing none was intended. With the sun warming them nicely, he was too busy enjoying being on land and away from the tense atmosphere on the boat to let it bother him anyway. "Hey, what's this?"

Both Ford and Beth turned and watched with curiosity as he scuffed something protruding from the sand with the toe of his boot.

"What you got there?" Ford asked.

"Not sure." Carefully, he brushed the sand away from the object. Wedged firmly between forefinger and thumb, he straightened up to let the other two see. Three pairs of eyes roamed over it for a few seconds before coming to the inevitable conclusion.

"Bone, you think?" Ford asked.

"Looks like it," Beth confirmed, gently taking the fragment from Ortiz and rotating it for a better view.

"Human?" Ortiz asked.

She shook her head. "I don't know – my physiology skills aren't great. It looks like a vertebrae, maybe too small to be human, but it's fresh; there's still tissue attached," she smiled. "Maybe this beach isn't such a dead end after all. Here," she said, handing the bone over to Ortiz so she could pull out a small plastic bag. Holding it open, she signalled for Ortiz to place the bone in before she sealed it and stored it away for analysing later. It didn't take a further two seconds before she was off up the beach, eager to find more evidence.

"You seem a little too enthusiastic about tracking a voracious killing machine," Ford commented.

"Oh come on, Commander! What scientist wouldn't be excited about seeing an extinct apex predator in the flesh?" she laughed.

"It's not that thrilling believe me." He looked carefully around to see how close Ortiz was before continuing. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Why are you so mouthy?"

"_What_?"

"I mean…you're a scientist. Compared to what we do, it's a pretty passive profession. And besides that, you're _trained_ to obey orders – to carry out tasks and missions. So why all the bluster and agro?"

She gazed at him incredulously, unprepared for the frank interrogation. It didn't deter him; he and the rest of the crew had put up with her seesaw mood swings for the past two weeks and they weren't showing any sign of abating, so it was time someone said something. He could see her looking back, just as he had done, to see how close Ortiz was to them, but he seemed to have taken the hint and had dropped back out of earshot, clearly not wanting to get involved.

"Didn't you just answer your own question?" she retorted quietly, receiving a blank look in return. "I was created for a specific purpose – forced into a role with no say in the matter. You'll allow me a little room for rebellion from that won't you?"

"Having a good reason doesn't give you the right to behave with arrogance and disrespect."

Her face filled with a flash of shock before her features were again composed. "Is it that bad?"

"Unless you want the term 'ice queen' to follow you around, I'd tone it down a little," he stated, frankly. It wasn't his intention to cause offence, but she wasn't making life easy for herself.

"I guess I've been a little self-involved since we got back onboard."

"That's not ideal when we live in such close quarters."

"I know."

Things hadn't been easy for any of them when the grief of losing friends was still so close at hand, but for the sake of the new crewmembers he'd had to bring it under control. It was about time she did the same. "Have you tried talking to Doctor Fields?"

"I'm not keen on that idea."

"You're gonna have to sooner or later. Psych evaluations are mandatory."

"I know that, too, Jonathan."

"You know some of us were starting to wonder whether you were back on the pills."

"That would never happen again," she insisted.

"I wouldn't let that happen again," Ortiz announced, striding alongside them.

"I thought you weren't listening," she grumbled.

"I thought you knew me better than that," he teased, dodging out of the way to avoid a firm punch to the stomach. "Careful!" he chided. "I found another piece of bone."

It was much the same as the first, but slightly bigger. "Look," Beth pointed. "There's some dried blood."

"What does that mean?" Ortiz questioned, turning to face the direction from which they'd come.

"Very fresh," Ford remarked.

"We've come a pretty long way. Think we should check in with the others?" Ortiz asked. They both looked back along the shore, noting that the town was now well out of sight.

"Give it a bit more time. Let's see if this trail leads anywhere first."

Ortiz nodded, turning to follow him further along the beach, and groaned instantly as he realised their third teammate was missing. "Does she have to do that?" he sighed. "Beth!" he shouted, taking off towards the dense patch of shrubbery ahead, with Ford close behind. As he rounded the corner his stomach roiled in protest causing him to gag embarrassingly until he regained control and covered his nose.

"I think this might be what Kristin was talking about," Beth mumbled, nasally, her nose also firmly covered.

Hidden among the shrubbery by the waters edge were at least five half eaten discarded carcasses of various species.

"That's quite a collection. Is that?" Ford asked, almost in disbelief.

"Yeah," Beth agreed with the same measure of awe. "A great white, along with some goats, and some…thing else."

"Unbelievable," Ortiz murmured.

"I don't think we should linger here," Ford suggested. "Ortiz, help her get some samples," he ordered. "I'll radio Brody." The stench of decay was almost too much to bear, so he quickly left them to it and walked back out into the open air, but before he could reach for his PAL it started ringing. "Ford."

"Commander."

"Captain, we're almost done here."

"Good. There's been another confirmed sighting. Get your men together and head back for the boat ASAP. We're setting a course to follow it."

"Roger that, Sir."

"Be careful, Jonathan. It's not far from your location."

"Not a problem, Sir. We're gone. Out." Foul smell instantly forgotten, he ran back into the shrubs where Ortiz and Beth were placing the samples into her bag. "We gotta hoof it. Captain just called; it's been sighted nearby. Orders are to head back to the boat."

Two pairs of wide eyes stared back at him.

"No complaints here," Beth insisted, following the men out of the vegetation and high-tailing it back along the beach towards the town.


	4. Chapter 4

_**My sincere apologies for taking so long to post the next installment. Life has taken some busy and unexpected turns so I've been finding it hard to get into 'writing' mode, but the stories are still continually churning through my head and new ones are developing all the time. I'm going to start posting shorter chapters to help make them easier to read. I hope you all continue to enjoy the story and where it is headed x**_

* * *

Finding time for a quiet moment of contemplation, however short, had proved difficult over the past couple of days, so now he'd managed to get one Nathan was making sure he got the best out of it.

Ignoring the mounting pile of correspondence on his desk, he had headed to the moon pool where a certain member of the crew had been more than eager to greet him.

"Bridger!" he spoke, happily paddling up to the edge of the pool where Nathan sat grinning at the welcome.

"Hello my friend." Darwin rolled over, exposing the underside of his chin and leaving Nathan in no doubt over where he should direct his attentions. "Oh it's like that is it?" he laughed, splashing him playfully, feeling the tension flow freely from him, lightning his mood. It seemed Darwin was one of few living creatures who could truly help him escape whatever was praying on his mind.

"He certainly knows how to manipulate," Kristin said as she approached them.

An unintended surge of disappointment instantly began to weigh heavy on him again; his moment of solitude had indeed been brief, and was now well and truly over. But mixed with the disappointment was a sense of gratitude for her presence. If he were to have any person disturb his reveries it would be her every time. "He certainly does," he agreed.

"Darwin want to swim."

"You can swim," Nathan chuckled dryly, knowing what he really meant.

"Darwin want to swim outside. Outside seaQuest."

"I know, buddy. But it's too risky."

"Why?" he asked innocently.

"You remember that crocodile?" Nathan asked, receiving an enthusiastic nod in response. "Well it's out there, waiting to eat you."

"Nathan," Kristin chided, disliking the over-dramatics, but Darwin simply shook his head from side to side.

"No, Darwin swim fast," he insisted.

Nathan and Kristin both had to laugh at the simplified analysis of the situation.

"It's not that easy, Darwin," Kristin explained. "We care about you too much to put you at risk. We love Darwin."

"Darwin love seaQuest. Darwin love water and fish, too," he added.

"So we're being compared to fish, oh boy," Nathan sighed, swinging round to face Kristin with a smile.

"It's better than what my children used to call me during their teenage years," she joked.

"Yes, I remember," he nodded, sadly. There was no use putting on any pretence around her; she would already have known whom his thoughts had turned to. As far as thinking of Robert was concerned, he now greeted the memories with far more welcome than dread. This transition had occurred gradually ever since he had left the island, and was something he read as being synonymous with moving on. As with every person who has lost a loved one he had been continually terrified to forget the vibrancy of his life with both Carol and Robert but highly aware of the need to come to terms with their passing. Being onboard the seaQuest had helped with that more than he ever expected, but with Wendy's tragic death, and the uncertainty that had followed, he now found those wounds weeping once more. He'd forgotten how hard they'd been to close.

"Shall I bore you with details of our Deinosuchus' trek across the Atlantic, or shall we talk about something a bit more real?"

"What's more real than a prehistoric predator rampaging through the Mediterranean?" he laughed, but the look she gave him silenced any further attempts at comedic distraction.

"You and Lucas still haven't spoken much have you?"

He shook his dead, dismally. Having been one of the main forces behind his 'reawakening,' when he first came aboard four years previously, he now found himself increasingly isolated from the boy. They were both trying to lay guilt, pain and memories to rest and were doing so without seeking any help from the other. Why that was he didn't know, but as Kristin had just pointed out, in her usual observant fashion, it was beginning to get to him.

"He's learnt a lot from you. Too much perhaps."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that it's your style to hide what you're dealing with. You refrain from telling your crew, and sometimes even your friends, what you're feeling in order to protect them – to save them from experiencing your pain." She slid further along the edge of the moon pool to sit closer to him and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "Lucas is doing the same thing," she told him, quietly. "You're both hiding your pain from one another when what you really need is each other."

That was another thing he'd forgotten – just how easily Kristin could slip between the cracks in his defences and expose the truth he was often hiding from. "You're frustratingly accurate sometimes."

"That's why I'm good at what I do," she smiled. "And speaking of being accurate, now that's out of the way I can bore you with the results of my search." She reached to the ground to pick up a folder.

"Captain to the bridge, Captain to the bridge," Henderson's voice suddenly called through the comms system.

Nathan pulled himself onto his feet and walked to the nearest communications panel. "Situation report."

"Sir, WSKRS have picked up the crocodile, we're in a pursuit course."

"Where's Commander Ford?"

"The launch is seven minutes out, Sir."

Kristin looked at him anxiously. It wouldn't be advisable for the launch to get within range of the crocodile.

"Tell the Commander to hang back until we're done; I'm on my way, and get Lucas to the bridge."

"What are we doing?" Kristin asked, grabbing her documents and following after him as he flew through the door.

"Tagging that thing."

* * *

"Keep it within range, Piccolo," Henderson instructed. With the Captain elsewhere and Ford, Brody, O'Neill and Ortiz out in the field, she was the only one left to co-ordinate their efforts. The XO's console felt alien, not least because it was Ford's. But although she was filled with unease, she was determined to make a good job of the task; she wanted to see the admiration on Ford's face when he arrived back onboard. Nobody thought she was officer material – they were wrong. "Weapons; plot a solution and inform me the second the science team have the tracking device loaded."

"It's heading back towards the shoreline," Beddard called out.

"Intercept it and cut it off with the WSKRS."  
"What if it attacks one?"

"We've got no other options – use the WSKRS and draw it back into open water."

"I'm on it," Beddard nodded. Henderson wasn't the only one out to impress. After her misdemeanour earlier, Rosa was desperate to make up for it, and what better way than to carry out a mistake free operation without the Chief's supervision? It was proving difficult though. The WSKRS, although highly manoeuvrable, weren't nearly as fast as the creature when travelling in a straight line. The creature's sheer bulk and indecision as to its' destination were so far the only things allowing her to keep pace with it. Under Henderson's orders, she'd positioned a fourth WSKR on point to give them the greatest chance of keeping it away from the shore – where the seaQuest couldn't follow. It was their hope that the swift movements and bright lights of the satellites would be enough to keep it on a suitable heading. "It's heading back towards us," she told them, relieved.

'_Come on_,' Henderson muttered under her breath. '_Where's that tracking device?_'

"Do we still have it?" the Captain asked as he marched to his seat, Doctor Westphalen not far behind.

"Yes, Sir," she told him. "A thousand metres directly ahead of us." She felt the adrenaline begin to subside now that she was under his expert supervision. Her part was over, and she hadn't messed it up.

"Set the boat to condition three, Ensign."

"Condition three, condition three, all hands man your stations, weapons ready, condition three," she announced over the PA.

"Tracking device is loaded Captain," Lucas announced as he entered the bridge and took position at his station.

"Guide us in, Mr Wolenczak," Bridger said, handing control of the operation over to him.

"Alright," he answered, confidently. "Sensor control, keep a WSKR on it's right flank – that'll be the best place to put the tag. Weapons, keep that tracker loaded and be ready to release on my mark. Helm, increase speed, we need to get within 400 metres."

"That doesn't give us a lot of room," Piccolo stated.

"I know, but we won't hit the right spot otherwise."

"WSKR in position," Beddard told him.

"Feed the data to my console, I need to plot a course projection."

"Data is yours."

"How far, Piccolo?"

"Another 200 metres to go."

"Keep her steady," Bridger urged.

"Just a little closer, come on!" Lucas spoke quietly to himself.

"Five hundred metres and closing," Piccolo shouted out.

"It's not going to tolerate this much longer," Kristin warned. "It'll turn and attack."

"Target in range!" Henderson called out.

"Course locked, release tracking beacon!" Lucas ordered.

Two seconds later the beacon flew from the boat, landing directly on the right side of the _Deinosuchus_, which it didn't take very kindly to. As Kristin had predicted, incensed at the pursuit and now having been attacked, it turned tail and headed straight towards them.

"Break off, rudders to starboard!" Bridger ordered.

"No use!" Henderson called. "It's gonna ram us."

"Sound collision! Kristin grab onto something!" he warned.

She barely had time to sit herself in the vacant chair next to Henderson before the boat was jolted, jarring them in their seats and sending unsecured equipment rattling to the deck. She dreaded to think of the scene she would return to in the lab.

"Report," Bridger ordered.

"No casualties, no damage," Henderson informed him.

"I think it came off worst, Sir," Piccolo joked.

"Uh, Tony's right, Captain, it's moving off, but the tracking device is working – we've got a perfect signal."

Bridger couldn't help the wide grin that spread across his face anymore than he could help the cheering and high-fives that erupted spontaneously across the bridge. "Good work," he informed them. "Settle down! Hold position. Henderson, inform the Commander that it's safe to dock. I'll meet them in the launch bay," he said, standing up to leave.

"Aye, Sir."

Lucas walked down the steps from his station to stand in front of him.

"That was a neat job, kiddo," he said, giving him a firm pat on the back.

"Thanks," Lucas nodded, bashfully, falling into step alongside him as they left the bridge with Kristin. "So what's next?" he asked.

"We see what our explorers have come back with."

* * *

"Launch MR-3 has arrived, docking bay three."

As the docking bay doors swung open, it wasn't much of a surprise to see the Captain waiting for them at the foot of the stairs. In fact Ford had expected nothing less; had he been in the same position he'd have been just as anxious for any news.

"I hear we missed all the fun," Brody joked as the group walked down from the hatch.

"I wouldn't exactly call it that," Bridger corrected him. "That crocodile packs quite a punch, but then…you two already know that," he teased.

Ford and Brody both glanced at each other, un-amused, while the others stifled grins.

"So, Mr Shan, how did you like being back in the action?"

Shan breathed a laugh, not sure how to respond. "It was…nostalgic, Sir. I don't think I'll be giving up the day job."

Bridger laughed heartily. "No, I suppose not. The crocodile's been tagged," he continued. "So once we decide on the best course of action, tracking it down won't be an issue."

"Nice job," Ford commented.

"And full props to Mr Ortiz."

On hearing his name Ortiz realised that he hadn't been paying complete attention, and so he looked between their faces questioningly, trying not to betray his ignorance.

"Ensign Beddard did a first rate job with the WSKRS, thanks, I'm sure, in no small part to your tutelage."

"Thank you, Sir," he said, surprised, feeling the red flush of embarrassment mingled with pride creeping up the back of his neck.

"How were things topside? Did you gather any samples?"

"Right here," Beth answered, pulling a polythene bag full of DNA kits from her bag.

"Good, get those to Kristin in the lab right away. She and Lucas are setting up for the analysis." He paused to gaze at them all, his face contorted in a peculiar way. "Then get yourself cleaned up," he told Beth. "In fact that goes for all of you. I don't know what you've been up to, but none of you smell great," he chuckled, shaking his head as he walked away, leaving them standing looking rather bemused.

Ford, Ortiz and Beth all subtly stiffed the air around themselves, finding that they had indeed brought the rather pungent smell of rotting carcass back onboard with them – a gift they had obviously shared with Brody, O'Neill and Shan during the shuttle ride back to the boat – something they clearly weren't thankful for.

Pulling his nose from his collar, Ortiz looked up into the glaring eyes of the three men. "Hey, _she_ found the thing," he instantly defended, pointing at Beth, who glared back at him incredulously. "_What_?"

She raised her eyebrows and scowled, shaking her head in disbelief. "Male pride, one, chivalry, zero," she remarked as she walked off, DNA samples in hand.

Ortiz stared after her sheepishly as the men laughed quietly.

"Smooth," O'Neill remarked, giving his shoulder a pat as he walked past.

"You know, there's a lot to be said for the entertainment value of onboard domestics," Brody teased.

"Lay off," he shrugged, and headed towards the showers with the rest of them.

* * *

"How long will it take?"

"A few hours," Kristin answered, sealing the samples in the centrifuge and starting the cycle. "I just hope we get something from it. There's no guarantee that any DNA was left on those remains."

"We can't cross that bridge until we come to it," Lucas reassured her.

"True." She peeled off her gloves, tossing them in the waste bin as she passed, and returned to her workbench where Lucas hovered. Her bum had barely hit the seat before he made his excuses to leave.

"If you won't be needing me for a while, I've got other things to do."

"What keeps you so busy these days?" she asked, trying hard to keep her tone neutral. With any luck he'd dismiss it as a passing comment.

"Technology may be advancing every day but computers still can't fix themselves," he joked.

"Still seeing Doctor Fields much?" '_Too far too soon_,' she chided herself. The look of surprise on his face, followed quickly by irritation, told her she was right.

"Yeah, once a week…at least."

'_An answer_,' she thought, impressed, half expecting him to have stormed off by now declaring it was none of her business. But then he had grown somewhat in the years of her absence; she was just finding that difficult to grasp, always picturing the scruffy, squeaky voiced child who got under everyone's skin and somehow managed to both pull them out of trouble and draw them into it. "And how is that going?" She kept her eyes focused on her work, still trying to maintain the illusion of half-interest.

"Pretty good."

"Good." She let the silence linger for a moment, judging how far he would allow her to push. "Lucas…"

"Are you fishing for the Captain?"

'_Uh oh, rumbled_.' "Fishing? Lucas, not everything I do is on Nathan's behalf. We're not permanently joined at the hip," she retorted.

"Oh yeah? What part of the anatomy are you two joined by these days then?"

"Lucas!" she gasped, looking around nervously at the enquiring faces around the lab. "I dislike these constant insinuations that Nathan and I are involved in some sort of relationship."

"No offence, Doctor, but you and the Captain have been in _some sort_ of relationship since he came aboard four years ago. I witnessed that first hand remember?"

It took a moment before she realised what he meant, but when it came to her she shuddered involuntarily. '_Nathan, wine, a silk nightgown and an active vid-link_.'

"Yeah, I didn't enjoy it that much either," he said, dryly, noticing her shudder.

"Alright, Nathan did ask me to talk to you…"

"I knew it."

"…but only because he's concerned. So am I. I'm concerned about the both of you."

Her words made him stop before expelling whatever retort had been poised on his tongue and stare at her, confused. "What's wrong with the Captain?"

"Come on, Lucas, don't insult your own intelligence."

"I'm not kidding. Is it something serious?"

"If _you're_ being serious you ought to be embarrassed." Now her tone really was beginning to betray her feelings but she was past being bothered. All she wanted was to get those two in the same room and bang their heads together. "Nathan is suffering the same way as everybody else on this boat, the same way as you, the only difference being that he is suffering alone. It's about time you both stopped being so stubbornly selfless and admitted you need each other's support." The rant had been slightly longer than she'd intended but from Lucas' soulful expression she judged it had done the trick.

"I'm entitled to deal with things in my own way," he said after a moment.

"Be that as it may, it does not give you the entitlement to shut out the people who care about you."

"That's not my intention."

"I know, but it's how he feels."

"_He _hasn't exactly been very talkative either."

"Give me strength," she groaned.

"_What_?" Lucas blurted, rapidly losing patience. She could see that he really didn't like having the spotlight turned on him. "Why does it always have to be me that puts myself out there? I'm fed up always having to make the effort. If you people care so much why don't you come to me for a change?"

"Lucas…"

The attempt to draw him back was futile – his exit was swift. She only hoped that, with time to cool off, he would see the reasoning behind her words.


	5. Chapter 5

"_Mag-lev engaged, please be seated to avoid injury. Next stop, bridge."_

'_At least some things don't change_,' Will thought to himself as he and Jonathan sped along the boat. Although having been onboard for going on 36 hours, he'd somehow managed to avoid the control centre of the boat. It hadn't been intended, at least not consciously, but somewhere deep down he had to admit that he still wasn't quite sure how he felt about being back.

A lot had changed since the 4600-I had been lost – he had changed, the boat had changed, the crew had changed, the political situation the world over had changed. He had fond memories of his time aboard – a fond place where he'd stored all the memories and experiences – and in a selfish way he wanted to leave them there. He didn't want them tarnished, which was why he'd been so apprehensive about agreeing to supervise the training session. But it had been the chance to catch up with some old crewmates that had swung the argument, and so far he was glad of it, though he still couldn't shake the feeling of uneasiness. He could only liken it to returning home, to a point of safe refuge, only to find someone had rearranged all the furniture. Nevertheless, as the mag-lev slowed, he couldn't help the intense curiosity that crept over him. What exactly was the bridge like now? And where would he be positioned if he were still part of the crew?

"You alright?" Jonathan asked as they stepped out.

"Yeah, it's just a bit strange."

In his usual laid-back manner, Jonathan simply gave him a slap on the back, smiling, and motioned him forward through the clam doors with a nod of his head.

There had been so many changes that he didn't know what struck him first; it was virtually unrecognisable. At first glance it looked unattractive – too geometric – with all the stations lined up along each edge of the bridge, but he could see the practicalities of it. This way they all faced each other – it was easier to communicate. He laughed to himself as he realised Tim and Miguel couldn't have been too happy with the arrangement – they'd no longer get away with their hidden conversations over the comms.

"Sir, Chief," Ensign Beddard nodded as she moved to pass them.

"I hear you did pretty well this afternoon. Good job, Ensign," Jonathan told her.

"Thank you, Sir," she allowed herself a brief smile before leaving.

"Have a look round."

He watched as Jonathan climbed up the small flight of steps to their right and began walking along the decking, observing the crew at work. To see him so comfortable in this environment only served to increase his feeling of detachment. It just wasn't _his_ boat. But then at the same time it was. The seaQuest wasn't just a boat – it was the embodiment of an idea – a mission – a purpose – and it was that idea that bound the crew together. That feeling of unity had been present on his boat, and he could feel it here too.

"Hey, Chief." He looked up to see Seaman Piccolo signalling to him from the helm.

Jonathan waited until Will was safely distracted by Tony before stopping by the navigation console and leaning in close to its' occupant.

"I hear Beddard wasn't the only one showing off this afternoon," he muttered, quietly.

Lonnie turned her head slightly, enough so he could see the playful look in the corner of her eye. "Is that meant to be a compliment, Sir?" she asked, turning her head back to her console.

"I guess you could say that," he grinned.

"Well then, thank you, Sir, I guess."

He didn't miss the slight twitch at the corner of her mouth as she spoke the words. It would have drawn him further towards her had he not stopped and checked himself, remembering where he was. "You made some sound judgement calls and good leadership. That's the kind of thing junior officers should be developing. I'm glad to see it in you." That speech sounded far too much like Bridger for his own liking, but it was the closest to '_I'm proud_,' that Lonnie was going to get. Cliché it may have been, but obscure it hadn't. She understood the meaning and turned to gaze at him, allowing them to make eye contact for a fleeting second before he had to move on.

'_And Ortiz thinks he's got it tough_,' he thought coldly to himself, shaking his head and making his way down to the helm to catch up with Will.

* * *

"Ensign."

Hearing the familiar voice, Rosa slowed her pace and turned, allowing Doctor Fields to catch up with her.

"I hear you played a rather large role on the bridge this afternoon," he smiled.

Pride wasn't something her parents had ever encouraged but this time she couldn't help but succumb – she truly was proud of her achievement. Only one thing would have made it complete. "Yeah, it went well."

"You don't sound so convinced," he stated, stepping aside to let one of the crew past.

"I just…" she hesitated and regretted it instantly.

"What is it?"

'_He's a councillor, of course he's going to pick up on it_.' "I wish the Chief could have seen it."

The condescending voice appeared almost instantly. "Rosa…"

"I know."

"We've been through this – fixating so much of your emotions on one person isn't healthy. You need to start getting to know the other members of the crew."

"It isn't that easy."

"It's easier than you're making yourself believe."

She exhaled loudly, making it appear more like a sulk than she'd intended.

"Anyway, I didn't mean for this to turn into another session. I just wanted to say well done. I'll see you tomorrow, same time?"

"Yeah," she nodded, feigning enthusiasm. He was right. What kind of life was she leading when the only things she looked forward to were the rare moments of praise from her instructor and her sessions with the boats' councillor? She couldn't help becoming so attached to the Chief. Besides her bunkmate, who didn't seem to understand her at all, he was the one member of the crew she spent most time with. And he was a good teacher; she had to work hard to earn his praise, which was probably why she valued it so much. While she worked with him, he could make her forget how out of her depth she felt aboard this strange vessel where she still couldn't seem to find a place for herself.

Happiness at her brief moment of glory already forgotten, she headed to her quarters for yet another evening filled with self-pity and derision.

* * *

The distinct whirring of the centrifuge was absent as he gingerly poked his head through the door and took a few steps forward.

Kristin was seated at her bench, head bowed, obviously in the midst of the STR analysis.

"Hi," he said quietly, breaking the silence.

She turned to gaze at him with genuine surprise. After all the amateur dramatics earlier, she obviously hadn't expected him to make the first move towards reconciliation.

"Lucas," she started, removing her glasses. "Listen, I…" she began.

"No, I want to go first," he insisted. "I'm sorry, I over-reacted. I'm not sure why I keep getting so defensive whenever people ask how I'm coping. I know you're just concerned, but I guess I just don't want people to think of me as that little kid anymore. I want to be able to deal with things myself."

"I don't believe anyone should have to go through things alone if they don't have to. And there's certainly no shame in asking for help if you need it."

"I know. I also know its there, so thank you."

"You're welcome, and I'm sorry too – I should have respected your privacy."

Lucas laughed dryly. "Come on, Doc, we're on a submarine – it's not that easy to do. And besides, I share a room with Piccolo – I ought to be used to it by now."

"Yes," she agreed, "it's a sacrifice we make, leading this life I suppose."

"Do you regret it? Coming back?"

"We're not talking about you anymore then?" she asked, noticing the diversion tactic.

"I think we've done enough of that already, for now anyway."

"I see," she sighed. "In all honesty I'm mixed about it. Pride is a powerful thing. It was hard to ignore a personal request from the Secretary General of the UEO to re-take one of the most prestigious science positions in the world. We're at the forefront of our field here, and since the funding was available I'd have been stupid not to take it."

"I smell a but."

"Well it must be yours," Kristin teased. Lucas simply rolled his eyes and released a groan. "Yes, alright, a boring adult joke, I know. Yes, there's a but. There's a lot of freedom on the surface that it's easy to take for granted. I suppose I miss the impulsiveness – going for a walk in the fresh air when you want to. Down here it's very regimented and routine. It brings comfort when things are difficult but it's also very suffocating."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"Tell me something…"

"I thought we were done with me."

"I don't care. Do you still enjoy being here?"

It was a question he wasn't expecting, so it took him a moment to formulate a suitable answer. "It's where I belong – I don't have anywhere else."

"That's not what I asked."

"Ok, right now it's not so great, but yes, seaQuest is still where I want to be."

She was looking at him disbelievingly. "Fine – just as long as you know that you do have other places you could be. You're young, and with a mind like yours you could do anything you put it to. I'd just hate to think you were staying here because you thought you didn't have any other options, or were too scared to explore them."

"I'm not scared!" he retorted, laughing slightly to himself.

"Alright," she reassured, glancing over at the computer screen.

"How's it coming?"

"Almost done I think. What's everyone else doing?"

"Waiting," he smiled. "Have you eaten?"

"Yes, Beth brought me something."

"I hear they all stank pretty bad," he laughed.

She couldn't help but do the same. "Yes, they did, but don't tell _them_ that."

They both looked back to the console as the analysis completed and the results began compiling, leaving them to wait anxiously.

"Stop that," Kristin chided, placing her hand over Lucas' fingers in order to stop them drumming on the work surface. "My God," she exclaimed as she took in the reams of charts and data on the screen.

"What is it?"

"A rather large complication," she murmured. "We could be in a lot of trouble."


	6. Chapter 6

_**I've just realised that the document uploader hasn't carried over the paragraph breaks from the documents I uploaded so all the chapters are appearing as one long paragraph. I've fixed chapters four & five so far and will work on the others later as their original documents have expired.**_

**_Those who aren't familiar with the UK sci-fi show Primeval may be a bit confused by the ending of this chapter but things are explained a little in the next one. For those who are familiar with Primeval I do apologise as it's completely AU and off canon but was written before I found out what would happen in series three of the show. I had to re-write the next chapter to incorporate those events._**

**_I hope you're continuing to enjoy this. Would love to hear from you if you are - thank you x_**

* * *

"You have _got_ to be kidding!"

"How is that possible?"

"It's _what_?"

Kristin raised her eyebrows and paused, waiting for the shocked responses to subside before repeating her conclusions. "The DNA analysis has shown that the two _Deinosuchus_ are maternally related…which means this one is the offspring of the one you laid to rest in the Antarctic a year ago."

The results had been enough of a shock for her and Lucas, so the silence now engulfing the wardroom wasn't really a surprise.

"But I thought that thing was sterile," Ford insisted.

"Jon's right," Beth added. "Wendy's notes state unequivocally that the _Deinosuchus_ they encountered couldn't produce viable offspring."

"Everybody makes mistakes," Lucas joined in, attempting to take some of the pressure from Kristin.

"So there could be dozens of those things swimming around out there? Ah jeez!" Brody exclaimed, leaning back in his chair, aghast at the prospect.

"Hold on a minute," Ford continued. "The nest was destroyed, the eggs were buried."

"Yes, so there must have been another nest," Kristin stated.

"Oh boy," Ortiz muttered, followed soon after by a "Great," from O'Neill.

"That might explain why it travelled so far from the nest site though," Beth suggested. "They're large animals, they're bound to have huge home ranges so it might have had to disperse to avoid competing with its' siblings."

"It's plausible," Kristin agreed.

"But still not very comforting," Bridger reminded them.

"You're absolutely positive?" Ford asked.

"Yes."

He let loose a low whistle as he took in the situation and exchanged speculative glances with the others around the table.

"What do we do with dozens of super-sized, super-hungry, alligators?" Ortiz asked. "I mean one or two, fine, but we can't just keep putting these things into cryostasis for someone else to deal with ten years down the line. And from what Doctor Westphalen said about the ice melt, they might not even be frozen for that long."

"Ortiz has a point," O'Neill agreed. "We could be in this same position a year from now."

Ford groaned. "There's a thought."

"I know what I'd do with them," Brody muttered.

"I think we all know what you'd do, Commander," Bridger chided. "The same probably goes for a lot of the military personnel in this room, or even this boat. But despite what recent events would suggest, military action isn't all that this boat is about. So perhaps we're not entirely qualified to answer that question."

"Not qualified, Sir?" Brody scoffed. "No disrespect, Sir, but how is it that we now need qualifications to state the obvious?"

"Which is what exactly?" Lucas snapped, angrily. "That we should blow it up with your big fancy missiles?"

"What other choice do we have, Lucas?" Ford asked.

"I don't know, but there has to be something." He looked at Kristin and Beth pleadingly but they remained silent. "Come on, this creature is amazing."

"Amazingly dangerous is what it is, Lucas," Ortiz stated, bluntly.

"Alright, alright," Bridger intervened. "There were obviously going to be highly polarised opinions on this, but we're not deciding anything until I've heard everyone's thoughts. Doctor Westphalen, Miss Allen, do you have anything to add?"

With so much pressure, they both flinched under the expectant gazes and attempted to gather their conflicted thoughts before answering.

Beth was the first to speak. "Our mandate is to protect life and preserve the ecological balance of the oceans…" she began.

"Exactly!" Lucas swiftly agreed, pleased to have someone backing his case.

"But if we allow this creature to live…we won't be preserving that balance – we'll be destroying it."

"_What?_" Lucas' reaction was mirrored in the shocked faces of the other men.

It took Kristin a deep intake of breath to pluck up the courage to give her opinion. She couldn't think of how betrayed and ignored Lucas must be feeling; this had to be a professional decision. "I'd be inclined to agree," she sighed.

"I can't believe this. Do you hear what you're saying?"

"Sounds pretty unanimous to me," Brody quipped, smugly, before any thoughts of further comments were silenced by a glare from Ford.

"What right do we have?" Lucas continued.

Kristin could sense the frustration and helplessness threatening to boil over and dared not intervene. Beth on the other hand didn't know any better, which struck her as rather ironic considering she was a telepath. She clearly wasn't exercising her gifts.

"None of us like the thought of it, Lucas, but it's the way it has to be."

"Like the thought? _He's_ loving the thought," he spat, pointing an accusing finger at Brody. "You know you're deciding the fate of an entire species here!"

"Nature decided the fate of this species long before we started interfering."

"And yet somehow nature found a way for it to survive."

The power of truth in his argument made Beth sway in her conviction, but she held firm. "Lucas, by allowing the creature to survive, we'd potentially be condemning other species to death, not to mention risking people's lives and livelihoods. This whole area depends on tourism. Leaving it alive would devastate that. Things change - it doesn't belong here anymore – I'm sorry."

The look of derision he shot her made her visibly flinch with shock. With his tolerance levels shot through, he left the meeting without a further word.

Beth stood instantly – ready to go after him.

"No, let me," Kristin insisted. "I'd say we're done here anyway."

Their exits left another cloud of silence in their wake, a silence that was broken by yet another low whistle, this time from Brody.

"Did you have to be so insensitive?" Beth snapped at him, exhaling loudly and resting her head on the table. "We're right aren't we?" she mumbled.

"I'm not sure that there is a definitive right or wrong on this occasion. We're doing the right thing as far as the bigger picture is concerned, but as for the _Deinosuchus_ and having respect for the miracles of nature…" Bridger trailed off, and they all realised why he'd been so reluctant to add his own voice to the debate. "But, we appear to have reached a decision, so we have to stick by it."

"When?" Ford asked, simply.

"As soon as possible. Night is the best time to carry this out – less commercial traffic. I think I'll sit this one out," he announced, standing up to leave. "I'll hear your report at 0800 hours tomorrow, Commander."

"Aye, Sir." He and the others stood as he exited, sensing his disappointment at the conclusion they had come to.

"You alright?" Ortiz asked, looking over at Beth.

She turned her face to look at him sadly for a moment before turning away again. "Yeah. This job sucks sometimes," she stated, mirroring their feelings.

"Come on," Ford ordered, keeping them going before their moods deteriorated any further. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

Against his better judgement, Lucas walked onto the bridge just as the claxons sounded condition three and Brody's voice rang through the boat to accompany it. He still couldn't believe the Captain was letting this go ahead. It was only a small comfort that he had admitted he didn't like the decision; neither did Westphalen, and hence the two of them had elected to remain absent as the deed was carried out.

His screen came to life with the blinking of the tracking beacon, only hours ago, he had helped attach to the crocodile thinking it would assist in saving its' life. Now it would effectively contribute to its' downfall.

The blip representing the crocodile gradually drew nearer to the blip representing the seaQuest until the inevitable began to unfold.

"We have the target in weapons range, Sir."

"Thank you, Mr Ortiz. Let's not draw this out any longer. Mr Brody, load tubes one and two, 15% charge."

"Aye, Sir. One and two, 15%."

'_15%_' Lucas considered. '_Strong enough to get the job done, yet not overly dramatic._' He shook his head and smiled thinly. Cynicism in someone so young couldn't be healthy. '_Doctor Fields is going to have a field day with that one_,' he thought, laughing internally at the pun.

"Keep us within range, Piccolo," Ford ordered.

The atmosphere was subdued, more so than Lucas had expected, but he was glad of it. The_ Deinosuchus_ deserved their respect.

"Weapons are ready, Sir."

"Thank you, Commander," Ford uttered, solemnly. "Target missiles."

"Target already locked, Sir."

Lucas could feel his fingers tightening around the edge of his chair and wondered whether he should have stayed with the Captain and Westphalen when they offered. The creature hadn't done anything beyond obey it's own instinct to survive. That was all any species ever did, except humans. Humans were selfish manipulative creatures whose reasoning very rarely seemed to encompass anything but madness, at least not recently. He looked to the side and caught Beth laying her hand on Ortiz' shoulder as he reached up to encompass it in his own for a moment. Despite his anger the scene further comforted him. At least they weren't beyond regret and compassion at what they were doing. A sudden frantic alarm drew his attention back to the central consoles in front of the Captains' chair.

"What is it?" Ford asked.

"Weapons lost target," Brody groaned. "They've locked onto something else."

"Sir!" Ortiz called out. "It's an unidentified craft, just appeared on our sonar. WSKR feedback places it directly between us and the crocodile."

"Hold all weapons!" Ford ordered.

"Weapons holding, Sir."

"O'Neill, hail them. Where the hell did they come from, Mr Ortiz?"

"I don't know, Sir. One second the board was clear, the next they were there."

"I've got the craft, Sir. Audio and Video."

"Put it on screen."

They all tilted their heads up eagerly to meet whoever had just interrupted their business and were greeted by a fair-haired man in his late thirties staring back at them with just as much curiosity. It was a face Lucas could have sworn he recognised only he couldn't place it.

"I'm Commander Jonathan Ford of the seaQuest. Are you aware your vessel has just entered our weapons range during a military operation?"

"Yes, I'm fully aware," he retorted. "That was sort of the point."

The crew gazed back at him, both stunned and slightly impressed by his gall.

"My name is Professor Nick Cutter. I'm here to take care of your crocodile."


End file.
